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diff --git a/22357-h/22357-h.htm b/22357-h/22357-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f80e9f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/22357-h/22357-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6992 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Danger! and Other Stories</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Danger! and Other Stories, by Arthur Conan Doyle</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Danger! and Other Stories, by Arthur Conan +Doyle + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Danger! and Other Stories + + +Author: Arthur Conan Doyle + + + +Release Date: August 19, 2007 [eBook #22357] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANGER! AND OTHER STORIES*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1918 John Murray edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>DANGER!<br /> +AND OTHER STORIES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">author +of</span><br /> +“<span class="smcap">the white company</span>,” +“<span class="smcap">sir nigel</span>”<br /> +“<span class="smcap">rodney stone</span>,” <span +class="smcap">etc.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.<br /> +1918</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page iv--><a +name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. iv</span><span +class="smcap">All Rights Reserved</span></p> +<h2><!-- page v--><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p>The Title story of this volume was written about eighteen +months before the outbreak of the war, and was intended to direct +public attention to the great danger which threatened this +country. It is a matter of history how fully this warning +has been justified and how, even down to the smallest details, +the prediction has been fulfilled. The writer must, +however, most thankfully admit that what he did not foresee was +the energy and ingenuity with which the navy has found means to +meet the new conditions. The great silent battle which has +been fought beneath the waves has ended in the repulse of an +armada far more dangerous than that of Spain.</p> +<p>It may be objected that the writer, feeling the danger so +strongly, should have taken other means than fiction to put his +views before the authorities. The answer to this criticism +is that he did indeed adopt every possible method, that he +personally approached leading naval men and powerful editors, +that he sent three separate minutes upon the danger to various +public bodies, notably to the Committee <!-- page vi--><a +name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>for National +Defence, and that he touched upon the matter in an article in +<i>The Fortnightly Review</i>. In some unfortunate way +subjects of national welfare are in this country continually +subordinated to party politics, so that a self-evident +proposition, such as the danger of a nation being fed from +without, is waved aside and ignored, because it will not fit in +with some general political shibboleth. It is against this +tendency that we have to guard in the future, and we have to bear +in mind that the danger may recur, and that the remedies in the +text (the only remedies ever proposed) have still to be +adopted. They are the sufficient encouragement of +agriculture, the making of adequate Channel tunnels, and the +provision of submarine merchantmen, which, on the estimate of Mr. +Lake, the American designer, could be made up to 7,000 ton burden +at an increased cost of about 25 per cent. It is true that +in this war the Channel tunnels would not have helped us much in +the matter of food, but were France a neutral and supplies at +liberty to come via Marseilles from the East, the difference +would have been enormous.</p> +<p>Apart from food however, when one considers the transports we +have needed, their convoys, the double handling of cargo, the +interruptions of traffic from submarines or bad weather, the +danger and suffering of the wounded, and all <!-- page vii--><a +name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vii</span>else that +we owe to the insane opposition to the Channel tunnels, one +questions whether there has ever been an example of national +stupidity being so rapidly and heavily punished. It is as +clear as daylight even now, that it will take years to recover +all our men and material from France, and that if the tunnel (one +will suffice for the time), were at once set in hand, it might be +ready to help in this task and so free shipping for the return of +the Americans. One thing however, is clear. It is far +too big and responsible and lucrative an undertaking for a +private company, and it should be carried out and controlled by +Government, the proceeds being used towards the war debt.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Arthur Conan +Doyle</span>.</p> +<p><i>August</i> 24<i>th</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Crowborough</span>.</p> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>I. DANGER! <a name="citation1"></a><a +href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a><br /> +BEING THE LOG OF CAPTAIN JOHN SIRIUS</h2> +<p>It is an amazing thing that the English, who have the +reputation of being a practical nation, never saw the danger to +which they were exposed. For many years they had been +spending nearly a hundred millions a year upon their army and +their fleet. Squadrons of Dreadnoughts costing two millions +each had been launched. They had spent enormous sums upon +cruisers, and both their torpedo and their submarine squadrons +were exceptionally strong. They were also by no means weak +in their aerial power, especially in the matter of +seaplanes. Besides all this, their army was very efficient, +in spite of its limited numbers, and it was the most expensive in +Europe. Yet when the day of trial came, all this imposing +force was of no use whatever, and might as well have not +existed. Their ruin could <!-- page 2--><a +name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>not have been +more complete or more rapid if they had not possessed an ironclad +or a regiment. And all this was accomplished by me, Captain +John Sirius, belonging to the navy of one of the smallest Powers +in Europe, and having under my command a flotilla of eight +vessels, the collective cost of which was eighteen hundred +thousand pounds. No one has a better right to tell the +story than I.</p> +<p>I will not trouble you about the dispute concerning the +Colonial frontier, embittered, as it was, by the subsequent death +of the two missionaries. A naval officer has nothing to do +with politics. I only came upon the scene after the +ultimatum had been actually received. Admiral Horli had +been summoned to the Presence, and he asked that I should be +allowed to accompany him, because he happened to know that I had +some clear ideas as to the weak points of England, and also some +schemes as to how to take advantage of them. There were +only four of us present at this meeting—the King, the +Foreign Secretary, Admiral Horli, and myself. The time +allowed by the ultimatum expired in forty-eight hours.</p> +<p>I am not breaking any confidence when I say that both the King +and the Minister were in favour of a surrender. They saw no +possibility of standing up against the colossal power of Great +Britain. The Minister had drawn up an <!-- page 3--><a +name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>acceptance of +the British terms, and the King sat with it before him on the +table. I saw the tears of anger and humiliation run down +his cheeks as he looked at it.</p> +<p>“I fear that there is no possible alternative, +Sire,” said the Minister. “Our envoy in London +has just sent this report, which shows that the public and the +Press are more united than he has ever known them. The +feeling is intense, especially since the rash act of Malort in +desecrating the flag. We must give way.”</p> +<p>The King looked sadly at Admiral Horli.</p> +<p>“What is your effective fleet, Admiral?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“Two battleships, four cruisers, twenty torpedo-boats, +and eight submarines,” said the Admiral.</p> +<p>The King shook his head.</p> +<p>“It would be madness to resist,” said he.</p> +<p>“And yet, Sire,” said the Admiral, “before +you come to a decision I should wish you to hear Captain Sirius, +who has a very definite plan of campaign against the +English.”</p> +<p>“Absurd!” said the King, impatiently. +“What is the use? Do you imagine that you could +defeat their vast armada?”</p> +<p>“Sire,” I answered, “I will stake my life +that if you will follow my advice you will, within a month or six +weeks at the utmost, bring proud England to her knees.”</p> +<p><!-- page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +4</span>There was an assurance in my voice which arrested the +attention of the King.</p> +<p>“You seem self-confident, Captain Sirius.”</p> +<p>“I have no doubt at all, Sire.”</p> +<p>“What then would you advise?”</p> +<p>“I would advise, Sire, that the whole fleet be gathered +under the forts of Blankenberg and be protected from attack by +booms and piles. There they can stay till the war is +over. The eight submarines, however, you will leave in my +charge to use as I think fit.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you would attack the English battleships with +submarines?”</p> +<p>“Sire, I would never go near an English +battleship.”</p> +<p>“And why not?”</p> +<p>“Because they might injure me, Sire.”</p> +<p>“What, a sailor and afraid?”</p> +<p>“My life belongs to the country, Sire. It is +nothing. But these eight ships—everything depends +upon them. I could not risk them. Nothing would +induce me to fight.”</p> +<p>“Then what will you do?”</p> +<p>“I will tell you, Sire.” And I did so. +For half an hour I spoke. I was clear and strong and +definite, for many an hour on a lonely watch I had spent in +thinking out every detail. I held them enthralled. +The King never took his eyes from my face. The Minister sat +as if turned to stone.</p> +<p><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>“Are you sure of all this?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly, Sire.”</p> +<p>The King rose from the table.</p> +<p>“Send no answer to the ultimatum,” said he. +“Announce in both houses that we stand firm in the face of +menace. Admiral Horli, you will in all respects carry out +that which Captain Sirius may demand in furtherance of his +plan. Captain Sirius, the field is clear. Go forth +and do as you have said. A grateful King will know how to +reward you.”</p> +<p>I need not trouble you by telling you the measures which were +taken at Blankenberg, since, as you are aware, the fortress and +the entire fleet were destroyed by the British within a week of +the declaration of war. I will confine myself to my own +plans, which had so glorious and final a result.</p> +<p>The fame of my eight submarines, <i>Alpha</i>, <i>Beta</i>, +<i>Gamma</i>, <i>Theta</i>, <i>Delta</i>, <i>Epsilon</i>, +<i>Iota</i>, and <i>Kappa</i>, have spread through the world to +such an extent that people have begun to think that there was +something peculiar in their form and capabilities. This is +not so. Four of them, the <i>Delta</i>, <i>Epsilon</i>, +<i>Iota</i>, and <i>Kappa</i>, were, it is true, of the very +latest model, but had their equals (though not their superiors) +in the navies of all the great Powers. As to <i>Alpha</i>, +<i>Beta</i>, <i>Gamma</i>, and <i>Theta</i>, they were by no +means modern vessels, and found their prototypes in the old F +class of <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 6</span>British boats, having a submerged +displacement of eight hundred tons, with heavy oil engines of +sixteen hundred horse-power, giving them a speed of eighteen +knots on the surface and of twelve knots submerged. Their +length was one hundred and eighty-six and their breadth +twenty-four feet. They had a radius of action of four +thousand miles and a submerged endurance of nine hours. +These were considered the latest word in 1915, but the four new +boats exceeded them in all respects. Without troubling you +with precise figures, I may say that they represented roughly a +twenty-five per cent. advance up on the older boats, and were +fitted with several auxiliary engines which were wanting in the +others. At my suggestion, instead of carrying eight of the +very large Bakdorf torpedoes, which are nineteen feet long, weigh +half a ton, and are charged with two hundred pounds of wet +gun-cotton, we had tubes designed for eighteen of less than half +the size. It was my design to make myself independent of my +base.</p> +<p>And yet it was clear that I must have a base, so I made +arrangements at once with that object. Blankenberg was the +last place I would have chosen. Why should I have a +<i>port</i> of any kind? Ports would be watched or +occupied. Any place would do for me. I finally chose +a small villa standing alone nearly five miles from any village +and thirty miles from any port. To this I <!-- page 7--><a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>ordered them to +convey, secretly by night, oil, spare parts, extra torpedoes, +storage batteries, reserve periscopes, and everything that I +could need for refitting. The little whitewashed villa of a +retired confectioner—that was the base from which I +operated against England.</p> +<p>The boats lay at Blankenberg, and thither I went. They +were working frantically at the defences, and they had only to +look seawards to be spurred to fresh exertions. The British +fleet was assembling. The ultimatum had not yet expired, +but it was evident that a blow would be struck the instant that +it did. Four of their aeroplanes, circling at an immense +height, were surveying our defences. From the top of the +lighthouse I counted thirty battleships and cruisers in the +offing, with a number of the trawlers with which in the British +service they break through the mine-fields. The approaches +were actually sown with two hundred mines, half contact and half +observation, but the result showed that they were insufficient to +hold off the enemy, since three days later both town and fleet +were speedily destroyed.</p> +<p>However, I am not here to tell you the incidents of the war, +but to explain my own part in it, which had such a decisive +effect upon the result. My first action was to send my four +second-class boats away instantly to the point which I had chosen +for my base. There they were to wait <!-- page 8--><a +name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>submerged, +lying with negative buoyancy upon the sands in twenty foot of +water, and rising only at night. My strict orders were that +they were to attempt nothing upon the enemy, however tempting the +opportunity. All they had to do was to remain intact and +unseen, until they received further orders. Having made +this clear to Commander Panza, who had charge of this reserve +flotilla, I shook him by the hand and bade him farewell, leaving +with him a sheet of notepaper upon which I had explained the +tactics to be used and given him certain general principles which +he could apply as circumstances demanded.</p> +<p>My whole attention was now given to my own flotilla, which I +divided into two divisions, keeping <i>Iota</i> and <i>Kappa</i> +under my own command, while Captain Miriam had <i>Delta</i> and +<i>Epsilon</i>. He was to operate separately in the British +Channel, while my station was the Straits of Dover. I made +the whole plan of campaign clear to him. Then I saw that +each ship was provided with all it could carry. Each had +forty tons of heavy oil for surface propulsion and charging the +dynamo which supplied the electric engines under water. +Each had also eighteen torpedoes as explained and five hundred +rounds for the collapsible quick-firing twelve-pounder which we +carried on deck, and which, of course, disappeared into a +water-tight tank when we <!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 9</span>were submerged. We carried spare +periscopes and a wireless mast, which could be elevated above the +conning-tower when necessary. There were provisions for +sixteen days for the ten men who manned each craft. Such +was the equipment of the four boats which were destined to bring +to naught all the navies and armies of Britain. At sundown +that day—it was April 10th—we set forth upon our +historic voyage.</p> +<p>Miriam had got away in the afternoon, since he had so much +farther to go to reach his station. Stephan, of the +<i>Kappa</i>, started with me; but, of course, we realized that +we must work independently, and that from that moment when we +shut the sliding hatches of our conning-towers on the still +waters of Blankenberg Harbour it was unlikely that we should ever +see each other again, though consorts in the same waters. I +waved to Stephan from the side of my conning-tower, and he to +me. Then I called through the tube to my engineer (our +water-tanks were already filled and all kingstons and vents +closed) to put her full speed ahead.</p> +<p>Just as we came abreast of the end of the pier and saw the +white-capped waves rolling in upon us, I put the horizontal +rudder hard down and she slid under water. Through my glass +portholes I saw its light green change to a dark blue, while the +manometer in front of me indicated twenty feet. I let her +go to forty, because <!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 10</span>I should then be under the warships +of the English, though I took the chance of fouling the moorings +of our own floating contact mines. Then I brought her on an +even keel, and it was music to my ear to hear the gentle, even +ticking of my electric engines and to know that I was speeding at +twelve miles an hour on my great task.</p> +<p>At that moment, as I stood controlling my levers in my tower, +I could have seen, had my cupola been of glass, the vast shadows +of the British blockaders hovering above me. I held my +course due westward for ninety minutes, and then, by shutting off +the electric engine without blowing out the water-tanks, I +brought her to the surface. There was a rolling sea and the +wind was freshening, so I did not think it safe to keep my hatch +open long, for so small is the margin of buoyancy that one must +run no risks. But from the crests of the rollers I had a +look backwards at Blankenberg, and saw the black funnels and +upper works of the enemy’s fleet with the lighthouse and +the castle behind them, all flushed with the pink glow of the +setting sun. Even as I looked there was the boom of a great +gun, and then another. I glanced at my watch. It was +six o’clock. The time of the ultimatum had +expired. We were at war.</p> +<p>There was no craft near us, and our surface speed is nearly +twice that of our submerged, so <!-- page 11--><a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>I blew out +the tanks and our whale-back came over the surface. All +night we were steering south-west, making an average of eighteen +knots. At about five in the morning, as I stood alone upon +my tiny bridge, I saw, low down in the west, the scattered lights +of the Norfolk coast. “Ah, Johnny, Johnny +Bull,” I said, as I looked at them, “you are going to +have your lesson, and I am to be your master. It is I who +have been chosen to teach you that one cannot live under +artificial conditions and yet act as if they were natural +ones. More foresight, Johnny, and less party +politics—that is my lesson to you.” And then I +had a wave of pity, too, when I thought of those vast droves of +helpless people, Yorkshire miners, Lancashire spinners, +Birmingham metal-workers, the dockers and workers of London, over +whose little homes I would bring the shadow of starvation. +I seemed to see all those wasted eager hands held out for food, +and I, John Sirius, dashing it aside. Ah, well! war is war, +and if one is foolish one must pay the price.</p> +<p>Just before daybreak I saw the lights of a considerable town, +which must have been Yarmouth, bearing about ten miles +west-south-west on our starboard bow. I took her farther +out, for it is a sandy, dangerous coast, with many shoals. +At five-thirty we were abreast of the Lowestoft lightship. +A coastguard was sending up flash <!-- page 12--><a +name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>signals which +faded into a pale twinkle as the white dawn crept over the +water. There was a good deal of shipping about, mostly +fishing-boats and small coasting craft, with one large steamer +hull-down to the west, and a torpedo destroyer between us and the +land. It could not harm us, and yet I thought it as well +that there should be no word of our presence, so I filled my +tanks again and went down to ten feet. I was pleased to +find that we got under in one hundred and fifty seconds. +The life of one’s boat may depend on this when a swift +craft comes suddenly upon you.</p> +<p>We were now within a few hours of our cruising ground, so I +determined to snatch a rest, leaving Vornal in charge. When +he woke me at ten o’clock we were running on the surface, +and had reached the Essex coast off the Maplin Sands. With +that charming frankness which is one of their characteristics, +our friends of England had informed us by their Press that they +had put a cordon of torpedo-boats across the Straits of Dover to +prevent the passage of submarines, which is about as sensible as +to lay a wooden plank across a stream to keep the eels from +passing. I knew that Stephan, whose station lay at the +western end of the Solent, would have no difficulty in reaching +it. My own cruising ground was to be at the mouth of the +Thames, and here I was at the very spot with my tiny <!-- page +13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span><i>Iota</i>, my eighteen torpedoes, my quick-firing gun, +and, above all, a brain that knew what should be done and how to +do it.</p> +<p>When I resumed my place in the conning-tower I saw in the +periscope (for we had dived) that a lightship was within a few +hundred yards of us upon the port bow. Two men were sitting +on her bulwarks, but neither of them cast an eye upon the little +rod that clove the water so close to them. It was an ideal +day for submarine action, with enough ripple upon the surface to +make us difficult to detect, and yet smooth enough to give me a +clear view. Each of my three periscopes had an angle of +sixty degrees so that between them I commanded a complete +semi-circle of the horizon. Two British cruisers were +steaming north from the Thames within half a mile of me. I +could easily have cut them off and attacked them had I allowed +myself to be diverted from my great plan. Farther south a +destroyer was passing westwards to Sheerness. A dozen small +steamers were moving about. None of these were worthy of my +notice. Great countries are not provisioned by small +steamers. I kept the engines running at the lowest pace +which would hold our position under water, and, moving slowly +across the estuary, I waited for what must assuredly come.</p> +<p>I had not long to wait. Shortly after one o’clock +I perceived in the periscope a cloud of <!-- page 14--><a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>smoke to the +south. Half an hour later a large steamer raised her hull, +making for the mouth of the Thames. I ordered Vornal to +stand by the starboard torpedo-tube, having the other also loaded +in case of a miss. Then I advanced slowly, for though the +steamer was going very swiftly we could easily cut her off. +Presently I laid the <i>Iota</i> in a position near which she +must pass, and would very gladly have lain to, but could not for +fear of rising to the surface. I therefore steered out in +the direction from which she was coming. She was a very +large ship, fifteen thousand tons at the least, painted black +above and red below, with two cream-coloured funnels. She +lay so low in the water that it was clear she had a full +cargo. At her bows were a cluster of men, some of them +looking, I dare say, for the first time at the mother +country. How little could they have guessed the welcome +that was awaiting them!</p> +<p>On she came with the great plumes of smoke floating from her +funnels, and two white waves foaming from her cut-water. +She was within a quarter of a mile. My moment had +arrived. I signalled full speed ahead and steered straight +for her course. My timing was exact. At a hundred +yards I gave the signal, and heard the clank and swish of the +discharge. At the same instant I put the helm hard down and +flew off at an angle. There was a terrific lurch, which +<!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>came from the distant explosion. For a moment we +were almost upon our side. Then, after staggering and +trembling, the <i>Iota</i> came on an even keel. I stopped +the engines, brought her to the surface, and opened the +conning-tower, while all my excited crew came crowding to the +hatch to know what had happened.</p> +<p>The ship lay within two hundred yards of us, and it was easy +to see that she had her death-blow. She was already +settling down by the stern. There was a sound of shouting +and people were running wildly about her decks. Her name +was visible, the <i>Adela</i>, of London, bound, as we afterwards +learned, from New Zealand with frozen mutton. Strange as it +may seem to you, the notion of a submarine had never even now +occurred to her people, and all were convinced that they had +struck a floating mine. The starboard quarter had been +blown in by the explosion, and the ship was sinking +rapidly. Their discipline was admirable. We saw boat +after boat slip down crowded with people as swiftly and quietly +as if it were part of their daily drill. And suddenly, as +one of the boats lay off waiting for the others, they caught a +glimpse for the first time of my conning-tower so close to +them. I saw them shouting and pointing, while the men in +the other boats got up to have a better look at us. For my +part, I cared nothing, for I took it for granted that they +already knew that a <!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 16</span>submarine had destroyed them. +One of them clambered back into the sinking ship. I was +sure that he was about to send a wireless message as to our +presence. It mattered nothing, since, in any case, it must +be known; otherwise I could easily have brought him down with a +rifle. As it was, I waved my hand to them, and they waved +back to me. War is too big a thing to leave room for +personal ill-feeling, but it must be remorseless all the +same.</p> +<p>I was still looking at the sinking <i>Adela</i> when Vornal, +who was beside me, gave a sudden cry of warning and surprise, +gripping me by the shoulder and turning my head. There +behind us, coming up the fairway, was a huge black vessel with +black funnels, flying the well-known house-flag of the P. and O. +Company. She was not a mile distant, and I calculated in an +instant that even if she had seen us she would not have time to +turn and get away before we could reach her. We went +straight for her, therefore, keeping awash just as we were. +They saw the sinking vessel in front of them and that little dark +speck moving over the surface, and they suddenly understood their +danger. I saw a number of men rush to the bows, and there +was a rattle of rifle-fire. Two bullets were flattened upon +our four-inch armour. You might as well try to stop a +charging bull with paper pellets as the <i>Iota</i> with +rifle-fire. I had learned my lesson <!-- page 17--><a +name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>from the +<i>Adela</i>, and this time I had the torpedo discharged at a +safer distance—two hundred and fifty yards. We caught +her amidships and the explosion was tremendous, but we were well +outside its area. She sank almost instantaneously. I +am sorry for her people, of whom I hear that more than two +hundred, including seventy Lascars and forty passengers, were +drowned. Yes, I am sorry for them. But when I think +of the huge floating granary that went to the bottom, I rejoice +as a man does who has carried out that which he plans.</p> +<p>It was a bad afternoon that for the P. and O. Company. +The second ship which we destroyed was, as we have since learned, +the <i>Moldavia</i>, of fifteen thousand tons, one of their +finest vessels; but about half-past three we blew up the +<i>Cusco</i>, of eight thousand, of the same line, also from +Eastern ports, and laden with corn. Why she came on in face +of the wireless messages which must have warned her of danger, I +cannot imagine. The other two steamers which we blew up +that day, the <i>Maid of Athens</i> (Robson Line) and the +<i>Cormorant</i>, were neither of them provided with apparatus, +and came blindly to their destruction. Both were small +boats of from five thousand to seven thousand tons. In the +case of the second, I had to rise to the surface and fire six +twelve-pound shells under her water-line before she would +sink. In each case the crew <!-- page 18--><a +name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>took to the +boats, and so far as I know no casualties occurred.</p> +<p>After that no more steamers came along, nor did I expect +them. Warnings must by this time have been flying in all +directions. But we had no reason to be dissatisfied with +our first day. Between the Maplin Sands and the Nore we had +sunk five ships of a total tonnage of about fifty thousand +tons. Already the London markets would begin to feel the +pinch. And Lloyd’s—poor old +Lloyd’s—what a demented state it would be in! I +could imagine the London evening papers and the howling in Fleet +Street. We saw the result of our actions, for it was quite +laughable to see the torpedo-boats buzzing like angry wasps out +of Sheerness in the evening. They were darting in every +direction across the estuary, and the aeroplanes and hydroplanes +were like flights of crows, black dots against the red western +sky. They quartered the whole river mouth, until they +discovered us at last. Some sharp-sighted fellow with a +telescope on board of a destroyer got a sight of our periscope, +and came for us full speed. No doubt he would very gladly +have rammed us, even if it had meant his own destruction, but +that was not part of our programme at all. I sank her and +ran her east-south-east with an occasional rise. Finally we +brought her to, not very far from the Kentish coast, and the +search-lights of our pursuers were <!-- page 19--><a +name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>far on the +western skyline. There we lay quietly all night, for a +submarine at night is nothing more than a very third-rate surface +torpedo-boat. Besides, we were all weary and needed +rest. Do not forget, you captains of men, when you grease +and trim your pumps and compressors and rotators, that the human +machine needs some tending also.</p> +<p>I had put up the wireless mast above the conning-tower, and +had no difficulty in calling up Captain Stephan. He was +lying, he said, off Ventnor and had been unable to reach his +station, on account of engine trouble, which he had now set +right. Next morning he proposed to block the Southampton +approach. He had destroyed one large Indian boat on his way +down Channel. We exchanged good wishes. Like myself, +he needed rest. I was up at four in the morning, however, +and called all hands to overhaul the boat. She was somewhat +up by the head, owing to the forward torpedoes having been used, +so we trimmed her by opening the forward compensating tank, +admitting as much water as the torpedoes had weighed. We +also overhauled the starboard air-compressor and one of the +periscope motors which had been jarred by the shock of the first +explosion. We had hardly got ourselves shipshape when the +morning dawned.</p> +<p>I have no doubt that a good many ships which had taken refuge +in the French ports at the first <!-- page 20--><a +name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>alarm had run +across and got safely up the river in the night. Of course +I could have attacked them, but I do not care to take +risks—and there are always risks for a submarine at +night. But one had miscalculated his time, and there she +was, just abreast of Warden Point, when the daylight disclosed +her to us. In an instant we were after her. It was a +near thing, for she was a flier, and could do two miles to our +one; but we just reached her as she went swashing by. She +saw us at the last moment, for I attacked her awash, since +otherwise we could not have had the pace to reach her. She +swung away and the first torpedo missed, but the second took her +full under the counter. Heavens, what a smash! The +whole stern seemed to go aloft. I drew off and watched her +sink. She went down in seven minutes, leaving her masts and +funnels over the water and a cluster of her people holding on to +them. She was the <i>Virginia</i>, of the Bibby +Line—twelve thousand tons—and laden, like the others, +with foodstuffs from the East. The whole surface of the sea +was covered with the floating grain. “John Bull will +have to take up a hole or two of his belt if this goes on,” +said Vornal, as we watched the scene.</p> +<p>And it was at that moment that the very worst danger occurred +that could befall us. I tremble now when I think how our +glorious voyage might have been nipped in the bud. I had +freed <!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 21</span>the hatch of my tower, and was +looking at the boats of the <i>Virginia</i> with Vornal near me, +when there was a swish and a terrific splash in the water beside +us, which covered us both with spray. We looked up, and you +can imagine our feelings when we saw an aeroplane hovering a few +hundred feet above us like a hawk. With its silencer, it +was perfectly noiseless, and had its bomb not fallen into the sea +we should never have known what had destroyed us. She was +circling round in the hope of dropping a second one, but we +shoved on all speed ahead, crammed down the rudders, and vanished +into the side of a roller. I kept the deflection indicator +falling until I had put fifty good feet of water between the +aeroplane and ourselves, for I knew well how deeply they can see +under the surface. However, we soon threw her off our +track, and when we came to the surface near Margate there was no +sign of her, unless she was one of several which we saw hovering +over Herne Bay.</p> +<p>There was not a ship in the offing save a few small coasters +and little thousand-ton steamers, which were beneath my +notice. For several hours I lay submerged with a blank +periscope. Then I had an inspiration. Orders had been +marconied to every foodship to lie in French waters and dash +across after dark. I was as sure of it as if they had been +recorded in our own receiver. Well, if they were there, +that was <!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 22</span>where I should be also. I blew +out the tanks and rose, for there was no sign of any warship +near. They had some good system of signalling from the +shore, however, for I had not got to the North Foreland before +three destroyers came foaming after me, all converging from +different directions. They had about as good a chance of +catching me as three spaniels would have of overtaking a +porpoise. Out of pure bravado—I know it was very +wrong—I waited until they were actually within +gunshot. Then I sank and we saw each other no more.</p> +<p>It is, as I have said, a shallow sandy coast, and submarine +navigation is very difficult. The worst mishap that can +befall a boat is to bury its nose in the side of a sand-drift and +be held there. Such an accident might have been the end of +our boat, though with our Fleuss cylinders and electric lamps we +should have found no difficulty in getting out at the air-lock +and in walking ashore across the bed of the ocean. As it +was, however, I was able, thanks to our excellent charts, to keep +the channel and so to gain the open straits. There we rose +about midday, but, observing a hydroplane at no great distance, +we sank again for half an hour. When we came up for the +second time, all was peaceful around us, and the English coast +was lining the whole western horizon. We kept outside the +Goodwins and straight down Channel until we <!-- page 23--><a +name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>saw a line of +black dots in front of us, which I knew to be the Dover-Calais +torpedo-boat cordon. When two miles distant we dived and +came up again seven miles to the south-west, without one of them +dreaming that we had been within thirty feet of their keels.</p> +<p>When we rose, a large steamer flying the German flag was +within half a mile of us. It was the North German Lloyd +<i>Altona</i>, from New York to Bremen. I raised our whole +hull and dipped our flag to her. It was amusing to see the +amazement of her people at what they must have regarded as our +unparalleled impudence in those English-swept waters. They +cheered us heartily, and the tricolour flag was dipped in +greeting as they went roaring past us. Then I stood in to +the French coast.</p> +<p>It was exactly as I had expected. There were three great +British steamers lying at anchor in Boulogne outer harbour. +They were the <i>Cæsar</i>, the <i>King of the East</i>, +and the <i>Pathfinder</i>, none less than ten thousand +tons. I suppose they thought they were safe in French +waters, but what did I care about three-mile limits and +international law! The view of my Government was that +England was blockaded, food contraband, and vessels carrying it +to be destroyed. The lawyers could argue about it +afterwards. My business was to starve the enemy any way I +could. Within an hour the three ships were <!-- page +24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>under +the waves and the <i>Iota</i> was streaming down the Picardy +coast, looking for fresh victims. The Channel was covered +with English torpedo-boats buzzing and whirling like a cloud of +midges. How they thought they could hurt me I cannot +imagine, unless by accident I were to come up underneath one of +them. More dangerous were the aeroplanes which circled here +and there.</p> +<p>The water being calm, I had several times to descend as deep +as a hundred feet before I was sure that I was out of their +sight. After I had blown up the three ships at Boulogne I +saw two aeroplanes flying down Channel, and I knew that they +would head off any vessels which were coming up. There was +one very large white steamer lying off Havre, but she steamed +west before I could reach her. I dare say Stephan or one of +the others would get her before long. But those infernal +aeroplanes spoiled our sport for that day. Not another +steamer did I see, save the never-ending torpedo-boats. I +consoled myself with the reflection, however, that no food was +passing me on its way to London. That was what I was there +for, after all. If I could do it without spending my +torpedoes, all the better. Up to date I had fired ten of +them and sunk nine steamers, so I had not wasted my +weapons. That night I came back to the Kent coast and lay +upon the bottom in shallow water near Dungeness.</p> +<p><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>We were all trimmed and ready at the first break of day, +for I expected to catch some ships which had tried to make the +Thames in the darkness and had miscalculated their time. +Sure enough, there was a great steamer coming up Channel and +flying the American flag. It was all the same to me what +flag she flew so long as she was engaged in conveying contraband +of war to the British Isles. There were no torpedo-boats +about at the moment, so I ran out on the surface and fired a shot +across her bows. She seemed inclined to go on so I put a +second one just above her water-line on her port bow. She +stopped then and a very angry man began to gesticulate from the +bridge. I ran the <i>Iota</i> almost alongside.</p> +<p>“Are you the captain?” I asked.</p> +<p>“What the—” I won’t attempt to +reproduce his language.</p> +<p>“You have food-stuffs on board?” I said.</p> +<p>“It’s an American ship, you blind beetle!” +he cried. “Can’t you see the flag? +It’s the <i>Vermondia</i>, of Boston.”</p> +<p>“Sorry, Captain,” I answered. “I have +really no time for words. Those shots of mine will bring +the torpedo-boats, and I dare say at this very moment your +wireless is making trouble for me. Get your people into the +boats.”</p> +<p>I had to show him I was not bluffing, so I drew off and began +putting shells into him just <!-- page 26--><a +name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>on the +water-line. When I had knocked six holes in it he was very +busy on his boats. I fired twenty shots altogether, and no +torpedo was needed, for she was lying over with a terrible list +to port, and presently came right on to her side. There she +lay for two or three minutes before she foundered. There +were eight boats crammed with people lying round her when she +went down. I believe everybody was saved, but I could not +wait to inquire. From all quarters the poor old panting, +useless war-vessels were hurrying. I filled my tanks, ran +her bows under, and came up fifteen miles to the south. Of +course, I knew there would be a big row afterwards—as there +was—but that did not help the starving crowds round the +London bakers, who only saved their skins, poor devils, by +explaining to the mob that they had nothing to bake.</p> +<p>By this time I was becoming rather anxious, as you can +imagine, to know what was going on in the world and what England +was thinking about it all. I ran alongside a fishing-boat, +therefore, and ordered them to give up their papers. +Unfortunately they had none, except a rag of an evening paper, +which was full of nothing but betting news. In a second +attempt I came alongside a small yachting party from Eastbourne, +who were frightened to death at our sudden appearance out of the +depths. From <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 27</span>them we were lucky enough to get the +London <i>Courier</i> of that very morning.</p> +<p>It was interesting reading—so interesting that I had to +announce it all to the crew. Of course, you know the +British style of headline, which gives you all the news at a +glance. It seemed to me that the whole paper was headlines, +it was in such a state of excitement. Hardly a word about +me and my flotilla. We were on the second page. The +first one began something like this:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">CAPTURE OF +BLANKENBERG!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">destruction of +enemy’s fleet</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">burning of +town</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">trawlers +destroy mine field</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">loss of two battleships</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">is it the +end</span>?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of course, what I had foreseen had occurred. The town +was actually occupied by the British. And they thought it +was the end! We would see about that.</p> +<p>On the round-the-corner page, at the back of <!-- page 28--><a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>the glorious +resonant leaders, there was a little column which read like +this:—</p> +<blockquote><p>HOSTILE SUBMARINES</p> +<p>Several of the enemy’s submarines are at sea, and have +inflicted some appreciable damage upon our merchant ships. +The danger-spots upon Monday and the greater part of Tuesday +appear to have been the mouth of the Thames and the western +entrance to the Solent. On Monday, between the Nore and +Margate, there were sunk five large steamers, the <i>Adela</i>, +<i>Moldavia</i>, <i>Cusco</i>, <i>Cormorant</i>, and <i>Maid of +Athens</i>, particulars of which will be found below. Near +Ventnor, on the same day, was sunk the <i>Verulam</i>, from +Bombay. On Tuesday the <i>Virginia</i>, <i>Cæsar</i>, +<i>King of the East</i>, and <i>Pathfinder</i> were destroyed +between the Foreland and Boulogne. The latter three were +actually lying in French waters, and the most energetic +representations have been made by the Government of the +Republic. On the same day <i>The Queen of Sheba</i>, +<i>Orontes</i>, <i>Diana</i>, and <i>Atalanta</i> were destroyed +near the Needles. Wireless messages have stopped all +ingoing cargo-ships from coming up Channel, but unfortunately +there is evidence that at least two of the enemy’s +submarines are in the West. Four cattle-ships from Dublin +to Liverpool were sunk yesterday evening, while three +Bristol-bound steamers, <i>The Hilda</i>, <i>Mercury</i>, and +<i>Maria Toser</i>, were blown up in the neighbourhood of Lundy +Island. Commerce has, so far as possible, been diverted +into <!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>safer channels, but in the meantime, however vexatious +these incidents may be, and however grievous the loss both to the +owners and to Lloyd’s, we may console ourselves by the +reflection that since a submarine cannot keep the sea for more +than ten days without refitting, and since the base has been +captured, there must come a speedy term to these +depredations.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So much for the <i>Courier’s</i> account of our +proceedings. Another small paragraph was, however, more +eloquent:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The price of wheat, which stood at +thirty-five shillings a week before the declaration of war, was +quoted yesterday on the Baltic at fifty-two. Maize has gone +from twenty-one to thirty-seven, barley from nineteen to +thirty-five, sugar (foreign granulated) from eleven shillings and +threepence to nineteen shillings and sixpence.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Good, my lads!” said I, when I read it to the +crew. “I can assure you that those few lines will +prove to mean more than the whole page about the Fall of +Blankenberg. Now let us get down Channel and send those +prices up a little higher.”</p> +<p>All traffic had stopped for London—not so bad for the +little <i>Iota</i>—and we did not see a steamer that was +worth a torpedo between Dungeness and the Isle of Wight. +There I called <!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 30</span>Stephan up by wireless, and by seven +o’clock we were actually lying side by side in a smooth +rolling sea—Hengistbury Head bearing N.N.W. and about five +miles distant. The two crews clustered on the whale-backs +and shouted their joy at seeing friendly faces once more. +Stephan had done extraordinarily well. I had, of course, +read in the London paper of his four ships on Tuesday, but he had +sunk no fewer than seven since, for many of those which should +have come to the Thames had tried to make Southampton. Of +the seven, one was of twenty thousand tons, a grain-ship from +America, a second was a grain-ship from the Black Sea, and two +others were great liners from South Africa. I congratulated +Stephan with all my heart upon his splendid achievement. +Then as we had been seen by a destroyer which was approaching at +a great pace, we both dived, coming up again off the Needles, +where we spent the night in company. We could not visit +each other, since we had no boat, but we lay so nearly alongside +that we were able, Stephan and I, to talk from hatch to hatch and +so make our plans.</p> +<p>He had shot away more than half his torpedoes, and so had I, +and yet we were very averse from returning to our base so long as +our oil held out. I told him of my experience with the +Boston steamer, and we mutually agreed to sink the ships by +gun-fire in future so far as possible. <!-- page 31--><a +name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>I remember +old Horli saying, “What use is a gun aboard a +submarine?” We were about to show. I read the +English paper to Stephan by the light of my electric torch, and +we both agreed that few ships would now come up the +Channel. That sentence about diverting commerce to safer +routes could only mean that the ships would go round the North of +Ireland and unload at Glasgow. Oh, for two more ships to +stop that entrance! Heavens, what <i>would</i> England have +done against a foe with thirty or forty submarines, since we only +needed six instead of four to complete her destruction! +After much talk we decided that the best plan would be that I +should dispatch a cipher telegram next morning from a French port +to tell them to send the four second-rate boats to cruise off the +North of Ireland and West of Scotland. Then when I had done +this I should move down Channel with Stephan and operate at the +mouth, while the other two boats could work in the Irish +Sea. Having made these plans, I set off across the Channel +in the early morning, reaching the small village of Etretat, in +Brittany. There I got off my telegram and then laid my +course for Falmouth, passing under the keels of two British +cruisers which were making eagerly for Etretat, having heard by +wireless that we were there.</p> +<p>Half-way down Channel we had trouble with a <!-- page 32--><a +name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>short circuit +in our electric engines, and were compelled to run on the surface +for several hours while we replaced one of the cam-shafts and +renewed some washers. It was a ticklish time, for had a +torpedo-boat come upon us we could not have dived. The +perfect submarine of the future will surely have some alternative +engines for such an emergency. However by the skill of +Engineer Morro, we got things going once more. All the time +we lay there I saw a hydroplane floating between us and the +British coast. I can understand how a mouse feels when it +is in a tuft of grass and sees a hawk high up in the +heavens. However, all went well; the mouse became a +water-rat, it wagged its tail in derision at the poor blind old +hawk, and it dived down into a nice safe green, quiet world where +there was nothing to injure it.</p> +<p>It was on the Wednesday night that the <i>Iota</i> crossed to +Etretat. It was Friday afternoon before we had reached our +new cruising ground. Only one large steamer did I see upon +our way. The terror we had caused had cleared the +Channel. This big boat had a clever captain on board. +His tactics were excellent and took him in safety to the +Thames. He came zigzagging up Channel at twenty-five knots, +shooting off from his course at all sorts of unexpected +angles. With our slow pace we could not catch him, nor +could we <!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 33</span>calculate his line so as to cut him +off. Of course, he had never seen us, but he judged, and +judged rightly, that wherever we were those were the tactics by +which he had the best chance of getting past. He deserved +his success.</p> +<p>But, of course, it is only in a wide Channel that such things +can be done. Had I met him in the mouth of the Thames there +would have been a different story to tell. As I approached +Falmouth I destroyed a three-thousand-ton boat from Cork, laden +with butter and cheese. It was my only success for three +days.</p> +<p>That night (Friday, April 16th) I called up Stephan, but +received no reply. As I was within a few miles of our +rendezvous, and as he would not be cruising after dark, I was +puzzled to account for his silence. I could only imagine +that his wireless was deranged. But, alas!</p> +<p>I was soon to find the true reason from a copy of the +<i>Western Morning News</i>, which I obtained from a Brixham +trawler. The <i>Kappa</i>, with her gallant commander and +crew, were at the bottom of the English Channel.</p> +<p>It appeared from this account that after I had parted from him +he had met and sunk no fewer than five vessels. I gathered +these to be his work, since all of them were by gun-fire, and all +were on the south coast of Dorset or Devon. How he met his +fate was stated in a short telegram which was headed +“Sinking of a Hostile <!-- page 34--><a +name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>Submarine.” It was marked +“Falmouth,” and ran thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>The P. and O. mail steamer <i>Macedonia</i> came +into this port last night with five shell holes between wind and +water. She reports having been attacked by a hostile +submarine ten miles to the south-east of the Lizard. +Instead of using her torpedoes, the submarine for some reason +approached from the surface and fired five shots from a +semi-automatic twelve-pounder gun. She was evidently under +the impression that the <i>Macedonia</i> was unarmed. As a +matter of fact, being warned of the presence of submarines in the +Channel, the <i>Macedonia</i> had mounted her armament as an +auxiliary cruiser. She opened fire with two quick-firers +and blew away the conning-tower of the submarine. It is +probable that the shells went right through her, as she sank at +once with her hatches open. The <i>Macedonia</i> was only +kept afloat by her pumps.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such was the end of the <i>Kappa</i>, and my gallant friend, +Commander Stephan. His best epitaph was in a corner of the +same paper, and was headed “Mark Lane.” It +ran:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Wheat (average) 66, maize 48, barley +50.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Well, if Stephan was gone there was the more need for me to +show energy. My plans were quickly taken, but they were +comprehensive. All that day (Saturday) I passed down the +Cornish coast and round Land’s End, getting <!-- page +35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>two +steamers on the way. I had learned from Stephan’s +fate that it was better to torpedo the large craft, but I was +aware that the auxiliary cruisers of the British Government were +all over ten thousand tons, so that for all ships under that size +it was safe to use my gun. Both these craft, the +<i>Yelland</i> and the <i>Playboy</i>—the latter an +American ship—were perfectly harmless, so I came up within +a hundred yards of them and speedily sank them, after allowing +their people to get into boats. Some other steamers lay +farther out, but I was so eager to make my new arrangements that +I did not go out of my course to molest them. Just before +sunset, however, so magnificent a prey came within my radius of +action that I could not possibly refuse her. No sailor +could fail to recognize that glorious monarch of the sea, with +her four cream funnels tipped with black, her huge black sides, +her red bilges, and her high white top-hamper, roaring up Channel +at twenty-three knots, and carrying her forty-five thousand tons +as lightly as if she were a five-ton motor-boat. It was the +queenly <i>Olympic</i>, of the White Star—once the largest +and still the comeliest of liners. What a picture she made, +with the blue Cornish sea creaming round her giant fore-foot, and +the pink western sky with one evening star forming the background +to her noble lines.</p> +<p>She was about five miles off when we dived <!-- page 36--><a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>to cut her +off. My calculation was exact. As we came abreast we +loosed our torpedo and struck her fair. We swirled round +with the concussion of the water. I saw her in my periscope +list over on her side, and I knew that she had her +death-blow. She settled down slowly, and there was plenty +of time to save her people. The sea was dotted with her +boats. When I got about three miles off I rose to the +surface, and the whole crew clustered up to see the wonderful +sight. She dived bows foremost, and there was a terrific +explosion, which sent one of the funnels into the air. I +suppose we should have cheered—somehow, none of us felt +like cheering. We were all keen sailors, and it went to our +hearts to see such a ship go down like a broken eggshell. I +gave a gruff order, and all were at their posts again while we +headed north-west. Once round the Land’s End I called +up my two consorts, and we met next day at Hartland Point, the +south end of Bideford Bay. For the moment the Channel was +clear, but the English could not know it, and I reckoned that the +loss of the <i>Olympic</i> would stop all ships for a day or two +at least.</p> +<p>Having assembled the <i>Delta</i> and <i>Epsilon</i>, one on +each side of me, I received the report from Miriam and Var, the +respective commanders. Each had expended twelve torpedoes, +and between them they had sunk twenty-two steamers. <!-- +page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>One man had been killed by the machinery on board of the +<i>Delta</i>, and two had been burned by the ignition of some oil +on the <i>Epsilon</i>. I took these injured men on board, +and I gave each of the boats one of my crew. I also divided +my spare oil, my provisions, and my torpedoes among them, though +we had the greatest possible difficulty in those crank vessels in +transferring them from one to the other. However, by ten +o’clock it was done, and the two vessels were in condition +to keep the sea for another ten days. For my part, with +only two torpedoes left, I headed north up the Irish Sea. +One of my torpedoes I expended that evening upon a cattle-ship +making for Milford Haven. Late at night, being abreast of +Holyhead, I called upon my four northern boats, but without +reply. Their Marconi range is very limited. About +three in the afternoon of the next day I had a feeble +answer. It was a great relief to me to find that my +telegraphic instructions had reached them and that they were on +their station. Before evening we all assembled in the lee +of Sanda Island, in the Mull of Kintyre. I felt an admiral +indeed when I saw my five whale-backs all in a row. +Panza’s report was excellent. They had come round by +the Pentland Firth and reached their cruising ground on the +fourth day. Already they had destroyed twenty vessels +without any mishap. I ordered the <i>Beta</i> to <!-- page +38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>divide her oil and torpedoes among the other three, so +that they were in good condition to continue their cruise. +Then the <i>Beta</i> and I headed for home, reaching our base +upon Sunday, April 25th. Off Cape Wrath I picked up a paper +from a small schooner.</p> +<p>“Wheat, 84; Maize, 60; Barley, 62.” What +were battles and bombardments compared to that!</p> +<p>The whole coast of Norland was closely blockaded by cordon +within cordon, and every port, even the smallest, held by the +British. But why should they suspect my modest +confectioner’s villa more than any other of the ten +thousand houses that face the sea? I was glad when I picked +up its homely white front in my periscope. That night I +landed and found my stores intact. Before morning the +<i>Beta</i> reported itself, for we had the windows lit as a +guide.</p> +<p>It is not for me to recount the messages which I found waiting +for me at my humble headquarters. They shall ever remain as +the patents of nobility of my family. Among others was that +never-to-be-forgotten salutation from my King. He desired +me to present myself at Hauptville, but for once I took it upon +myself to disobey his commands. It took me two +days—or rather two nights, for we sank ourselves during the +daylight hours—to get all our stores on board, but my +presence was needful every minute of <!-- page 39--><a +name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>the +time. On the third morning, at four o’clock, the +<i>Beta</i> and my own little flagship were at sea once more, +bound for our original station off the mouth of the Thames.</p> +<p>I had no time to read our papers whilst I was refitting, but I +gathered the news after we got under way. The British +occupied all our ports, but otherwise we had not suffered at all, +since we have excellent railway communications with Europe. +Prices had altered little, and our industries continued as +before. There was talk of a British invasion, but this I +knew to be absolute nonsense, for the British must have learned +by this time that it would be sheer murder to send transports +full of soldiers to sea in the face of submarines. When +they have a tunnel they can use their fine expeditionary force +upon the Continent, but until then it might just as well not +exist so far as Europe is concerned. My own country, +therefore, was in good case and had nothing to fear. Great +Britain, however, was already feeling my grip upon her +throat. As in normal times four-fifths of her food is +imported, prices were rising by leaps and bounds. The +supplies in the country were beginning to show signs of +depletion, while little was coming in to replace it. The +insurances at Lloyd’s had risen to a figure which made the +price of the food prohibitive to the mass of the people by the +time it had reached the market. <!-- page 40--><a +name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>The loaf, +which, under ordinary circumstances stood at fivepence, was +already at one and twopence. Beef was three shillings and +fourpence a pound, and mutton two shillings and ninepence. +Everything else was in proportion. The Government had acted +with energy and offered a big bounty for corn to be planted at +once. It could only be reaped five months hence, however, +and long before then, as the papers pointed out, half the island +would be dead from starvation. Strong appeals had been made +to the patriotism of the people, and they were assured that the +interference with trade was temporary, and that with a little +patience all would be well. But already there was a marked +rise in the death-rate, especially among children, who suffered +from want of milk, the cattle being slaughtered for food. +There was serious rioting in the Lanarkshire coalfields and in +the Midlands, together with a Socialistic upheaval in the East of +London, which had assumed the proportions of a civil war. +Already there were responsible papers which declared that England +was in an impossible position, and that an immediate peace was +necessary to prevent one of the greatest tragedies in +history. It was my task now to prove to them that they were +right.</p> +<p>It was May 2nd when I found myself back at the Maplin Sands to +the north of the estuary of the Thames. The <i>Beta</i> was +sent on to the <!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 41</span>Solent to block it and take the place +of the lamented <i>Kappa</i>. And now I was throttling +Britain indeed—London, Southampton, the Bristol Channel, +Liverpool, the North Channel, the Glasgow approaches, each was +guarded by my boats. Great liners were, as we learned +afterwards, pouring their supplies into Galway and the West of +Ireland, where provisions were cheaper than has ever been +known. Tens of thousands were embarking from Britain for +Ireland in order to save themselves from starvation. But +you cannot transplant a whole dense population. The main +body of the people, by the middle of May, were actually +starving. At that date wheat was at a hundred, maize and +barley at eighty. Even the most obstinate had begun to see +that the situation could not possibly continue.</p> +<p>In the great towns starving crowds clamoured for bread before +the municipal offices, and public officials everywhere were +attacked and often murdered by frantic mobs, composed largely of +desperate women who had seen their infants perish before their +eyes. In the country, roots, bark, and weeds of every sort +were used as food. In London the private mansions of +Ministers were guarded by strong pickets of soldiers, while a +battalion of Guards was camped permanently round the Houses of +Parliament. The lives of the Prime Minister and of the +Foreign Secretary <!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 42</span>were continually threatened and +occasionally attempted. Yet the Government had entered upon +the war with the full assent of every party in the State. +The true culprits were those, be they politicians or journalists, +who had not the foresight to understand that unless Britain grew +her own supplies, or unless by means of a tunnel she had some way +of conveying them into the island, all her mighty expenditure +upon her army and her fleet was a mere waste of money so long as +her antagonists had a few submarines and men who could use +them. England has often been stupid, but has got off +scot-free. This time she was stupid and had to pay the +price. You can’t expect Luck to be your saviour +always.</p> +<p>It would be a mere repetition of what I have already described +if I were to recount all our proceedings during that first ten +days after I resumed my station. During my absence the +ships had taken heart and had begun to come up again. In +the first day I got four. After that I had to go farther +afield, and again I picked up several in French waters. +Once I had a narrow escape through one of my kingston valves +getting some grit into it and refusing to act when I was below +the surface. Our margin of buoyancy just carried us +through. By the end of that week the Channel was clear +again, and both <i>Beta</i> and my own boat were down West once +more. There we had encouraging <!-- page 43--><a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>messages from +our Bristol consort, who in turn had heard from <i>Delta</i> at +Liverpool. Our task was completely done. We could not +prevent all food from passing into the British Islands, but at +least we had raised what did get in to a price which put it far +beyond the means of the penniless, workless multitudes. In +vain Government commandeered it all and doled it out as a general +feeds the garrison of a fortress. The task was too +great—the responsibility too horrible. Even the proud +and stubborn English could not face it any longer.</p> +<p>I remember well how the news came to me. I was lying at +the time off Selsey Bill when I saw a small war-vessel coming +down Channel. It had never been my policy to attack any +vessel coming <i>down</i>. My torpedoes and even my shells +were too precious for that. I could not help being +attracted, however, by the movements of this ship, which came +slowly zigzagging in my direction.</p> +<p>“Looking for me,” thought I. “What on +earth does the foolish thing hope to do if she could find +me?”</p> +<p>I was lying awash at the time and got ready to go below in +case she should come for me. But at that moment—she +was about half a mile away—she turned her quarter, and +there to my amazement was the red flag with the blue circle, our +own beloved flag, flying from her peak. For <!-- page +44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>a +moment I thought that this was some clever dodge of the enemy to +tempt me within range. I snatched up my glasses and called +on Vornal. Then we both recognized the vessel. It was +the <i>Juno</i>, the only one left intact of our own +cruisers. What could she be doing flying the flag in the +enemy’s waters? Then I understood it, and turning to +Vornal, we threw ourselves into each other’s arms. It +could only mean an armistice—or peace!</p> +<p>And it was peace. We learned the glad news when we had +risen alongside the <i>Juno</i>, and the ringing cheers which +greeted us had at last died away. Our orders were to report +ourselves at once at Blankenberg. Then she passed on down +Channel to collect the others. We returned to port upon the +surface, steaming through the whole British fleet as we passed up +the North Sea. The crews clustered thick along the sides of +the vessels to watch us. I can see now their sullen, angry +faces. Many shook their fists and cursed us as we went +by. It was not that we had damaged them—I will do +them the justice to say that the English, as the old Boer War has +proved, bear no resentment against a brave enemy—but that +they thought us cowardly to attack merchant ships and avoid the +warships. It is like the Arabs who think that a flank +attack is a mean, unmanly device. War is not a big game, my +English friends. It is a desperate <!-- page 45--><a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>business to +gain the upper hand, and one must use one’s brain in order +to find the weak spot of one’s enemy. It is not fair +to blame me if I have found yours. It was my duty. +Perhaps those officers and sailors who scowled at the little +<i>Iota</i> that May morning have by this time done me justice +when the first bitterness of undeserved defeat was passed.</p> +<p>Let others describe my entrance into Blankenberg; the mad +enthusiasm of the crowds, and the magnificent public reception of +each successive boat as it arrived. Surely the men deserved +the grant made them by the State which has enabled each of them +to be independent for life. As a feat of endurance, that +long residence in such a state of mental tension in cramped +quarters, breathing an unnatural atmosphere, will long remain as +a record. The country may well be proud of such +sailors.</p> +<p>The terms of peace were not made onerous, for we were in no +condition to make Great Britain our permanent enemy. We +knew well that we had won the war by circumstances which would +never be allowed to occur again, and that in a few years the +Island Power would be as strong as ever—stronger, +perhaps—for the lesson that she had learned. It would +be madness to provoke such an antagonist. A mutual salute +of flags was arranged, the Colonial boundary was adjusted by +arbitration, and we claimed no indemnity <!-- page 46--><a +name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>beyond an +undertaking on the part of Britain that she would pay any damages +which an International Court might award to France or to the +United States for injury received through the operations of our +submarines. So ended the war!</p> +<p>Of course, England will not be caught napping in such a +fashion again! Her foolish blindness is partly explained by +her delusion that her enemy would not torpedo merchant +vessels. Common sense should have told her that her enemy +will play the game that suits them best—that they will not +inquire what they may do, but they will do it first and talk +about it afterwards. The opinion of the whole world now is +that if a blockade were proclaimed one may do what one can with +those who try to break it, and that it was as reasonable to +prevent food from reaching England in war time as it is for a +besieger to prevent the victualling of a beleaguered +fortress.</p> +<p>I cannot end this account better than by quoting the first few +paragraphs of a leader in the <i>Times</i>, which appeared +shortly after the declaration of peace. It may be taken to +epitomize the saner public opinion of England upon the meaning +and lessons of the episode.</p> +<blockquote><p>“In all this miserable business,” said +the writer, “which has cost us the loss of a considerable +portion of our merchant fleet and more than <!-- page 47--><a +name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>fifty +thousand civilian lives, there is just one consolation to be +found. It lies in the fact that our temporary conqueror is +a Power which is not strong enough to reap the fruits of her +victory. Had we endured this humiliation at the hands of +any of the first-class Powers it would certainly have entailed +the loss of all our Crown Colonies and tropical possessions, +besides the payment of a huge indemnity. We were absolutely +at the feet of our conqueror and had no possible alternative but +to submit to her terms, however onerous. Norland has had +the good sense to understand that she must not abuse her +temporary advantage, and has been generous in her dealings. +In the grip of any other Power we should have ceased to exist as +an Empire.</p> +<p>“Even now we are not out of the wood. Some one may +maliciously pick a quarrel with us before we get our house in +order, and use the easy weapon which has been demonstrated. +It is to meet such a contingency that the Government has rushed +enormous stores of food at the public expense into the +country. In a very few months the new harvest will have +appeared. On the whole we can face the immediate future +without undue depression, though there remain some causes for +anxiety. These will no doubt be energetically handled by +this new and efficient Government, which has taken the place of +those discredited politicians who led us into a war without +having foreseen how helpless we were against an obvious form of +attack.</p> +<p><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span>“Already the lines of our reconstruction are +evident. The first and most important is that our Party men +realize that there is something more vital than their academic +disputes about Free Trade or Protection, and that all theory must +give way to the fact that a country is in an artificial and +dangerous condition if she does not produce within her own +borders sufficient food to at least keep life in her +population. Whether this should be brought about by a tax +upon foreign foodstuffs, or by a bounty upon home products, or by +a combination of the two, is now under discussion. But all +Parties are combined upon the principle, and, though it will +undoubtedly entail either a rise in prices or a deterioration in +quality in the food of the working-classes, they will at least be +insured against so terrible a visitation as that which is fresh +in our memories. At any rate, we have got past the stage of +argument. It <i>must</i> be so. The increased +prosperity of the farming interest, and, as we will hope, the +cessation of agricultural emigration, will be benefits to be +counted against the obvious disadvantages.</p> +<p>“The second lesson is the immediate construction of not +one but two double-lined railways under the Channel. We +stand in a white sheet over the matter, since the project has +always been discouraged in these columns, but we are prepared to +admit that had such railway communication been combined with +adequate arrangements for forwarding supplies from Marseilles, we +should have avoided our recent <!-- page 49--><a +name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>surrender. We still insist that we cannot trust +entirely to a tunnel, since our enemy might have allies in the +Mediterranean; but in a single contest with any Power of the +North of Europe it would certainly be of inestimable +benefit. There may be dangers attendant upon the existence +of a tunnel, but it must now be admitted that they are trivial +compared to those which come from its absence. As to the +building of large fleets of merchant submarines for the carriage +of food, that is a new departure which will be an additional +insurance against the danger which has left so dark a page in the +history of our country.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 50--><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>II. ONE CROWDED HOUR</h2> +<p>The place was the Eastbourne-Tunbridge road, not very far from +the Cross in Hand—a lonely stretch, with a heath running +upon either side. The time was half-past eleven upon a +Sunday night in the late summer. A motor was passing slowly +down the road.</p> +<p>It was a long, lean Rolls-Royce, running smoothly with a +gentle purring of the engine. Through the two vivid circles +cast by the electric head-lights the waving grass fringes and +clumps of heather streamed swiftly like some golden +cinematograph, leaving a blacker darkness behind and around +them. One ruby-red spot shone upon the road, but no +number-plate was visible within the dim ruddy halo of the +tail-lamp which cast it. The car was open and of a tourist +type, but even in that obscure light, for the night was moonless, +an observer could hardly fail to have noticed a curious +indefiniteness in its lines. As it slid into and across the +broad stream of light from <!-- page 51--><a +name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>an open +cottage door the reason could be seen. The body was hung +with a singular loose arrangement of brown holland. Even +the long black bonnet was banded with some close-drawn +drapery.</p> +<p>The solitary man who drove this curious car was broad and +burly. He sat hunched up over his steering-wheel, with the +brim of a Tyrolean hat drawn down over his eyes. The red +end of a cigarette smouldered under the black shadow thrown by +the headgear. A dark ulster of some frieze-like material +was turned up in the collar until it covered his ears. His +neck was pushed forward from his rounded shoulders, and he +seemed, as the car now slid noiselessly down the long, sloping +road, with the clutch disengaged and the engine running free, to +be peering ahead of him through the darkness in search of some +eagerly-expected object.</p> +<p>The distant toot of a motor-horn came faintly from some point +far to the south of him. On such a night, at such a place, +all traffic must be from south to north when the current of +London week-enders sweeps back from the watering-place to the +capital—from pleasure to duty. The man sat straight +and listened intently. Yes, there it was again, and +certainly to the south of him. His face was over the wheel +and his eyes strained through the darkness. <!-- page +52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>Then +suddenly he spat out his cigarette and gave a sharp intake of the +breath. Far away down the road two little yellow points had +rounded a curve. They vanished into a dip, shot upwards +once more, and then vanished again. The inert man in the +draped car woke suddenly into intense life. From his pocket +he pulled a mask of dark cloth, which he fastened securely across +his face, adjusting it carefully that his sight might be +unimpeded. For an instant he uncovered an acetylene +hand-lantern, took a hasty glance at his own preparations, and +laid it beside a Mauser pistol upon the seat alongside him. +Then, twitching his hat down lower than ever, he released his +clutch and slid downward his gear-lever. With a chuckle and +shudder the long, black machine sprang forward, and shot with a +soft sigh from her powerful engines down the sloping +gradient. The driver stooped and switched off his electric +head-lights. Only a dim grey swathe cut through the black +heath indicated the line of his road. From in front there +came presently a confused puffing and rattling and clanging as +the oncoming car breasted the slope. It coughed and +spluttered on a powerful, old-fashioned low gear, while its +engine throbbed like a weary heart. The yellow, glaring +lights dipped for the last time into a switchback curve. +When they reappeared over the crest the two cars were within <!-- +page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>thirty yards of each other. The dark one darted +across the road and barred the other’s passage, while a +warning acetylene lamp was waved in the air. With a jarring +of brakes the noisy new-comer was brought to a halt.</p> +<p>“I say,” cried an aggrieved voice, +“’pon my soul, you know, we might have had an +accident. Why the devil don’t you keep your +head-lights on? I never saw you till I nearly burst my +radiators on you!”</p> +<p>The acetylene lamp, held forward, discovered a very angry +young man, blue-eyed, yellow-moustached, and florid, sitting +alone at the wheel of an antiquated twelve-horse Wolseley. +Suddenly the aggrieved look upon his flushed face changed to one +of absolute bewilderment. The driver in the dark car had +sprung out of the seat, a black, long-barrelled, wicked-looking +pistol was poked in the traveller’s face, and behind the +further sights of it was a circle of black cloth with two deadly +eyes looking from as many slits.</p> +<p>“Hands up!” said a quick, stern voice. +“Hands up! or, by the Lord—”</p> +<p>The young man was as brave as his neighbours, but the hands +went up all the same.</p> +<p>“Get down!” said his assailant, curtly.</p> +<p>The young man stepped forth into the road, followed closely by +the covering lantern and pistol. Once he made as if he +would drop his <!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 54</span>hands, but a short, stern word jerked +them up again.</p> +<p>“I say, look here, this is rather out o’ date, +ain’t it?” said the traveller. “I expect +you’re joking—what?”</p> +<p>“Your watch,” said the man behind the Mauser +pistol.</p> +<p>“You can’t really mean it!”</p> +<p>“Your watch, I say!”</p> +<p>“Well, take it, if you must. It’s only +plated, anyhow. You’re two centuries out in time, or +a few thousand miles longitude. The bush is your +mark—or America. You don’t seem in the picture +on a Sussex road.”</p> +<p>“Purse,” said the man. There was something +very compelling in his voice and methods. The purse was +handed over.</p> +<p>“Any rings?”</p> +<p>“Don’t wear ’em.”</p> +<p>“Stand there! Don’t move!”</p> +<p>The highwayman passed his victim and threw open the bonnet of +the Wolseley. His hand, with a pair of steel pliers, was +thrust deep into the works. There was the snap of a parting +wire.</p> +<p>“Hang it all, don’t crock my car!” cried the +traveller.</p> +<p>He turned, but quick as a flash the pistol was at his head +once more. And yet even in that flash, whilst the robber +whisked round from the broken circuit, something had caught the +young <!-- page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 55</span>man’s eye which made him gasp +and start. He opened his mouth as if about to shout some +words. Then with an evident effort he restrained +himself.</p> +<p>“Get in,” said the highwayman.</p> +<p>The traveller climbed back to his seat.</p> +<p>“What is your name?”</p> +<p>“Ronald Barker. What’s yours?”</p> +<p>The masked man ignored the impertinence.</p> +<p>“Where do you live?” he asked.</p> +<p>“My cards are in my purse. Take one.”</p> +<p>The highwayman sprang into his car, the engine of which had +hissed and whispered in gentle accompaniment to the +interview. With a clash he threw back his side-brake, flung +in his gears, twirled the wheel hard round, and cleared the +motionless Wolseley. A minute later he was gliding swiftly, +with all his lights’ gleaming, some half-mile southward on +the road, while Mr. Ronald Barker, a side-lamp in his hand, was +rummaging furiously among the odds and ends of his repair-box for +a strand of wire which would connect up his electricity and set +him on his way once more.</p> +<p>When he had placed a safe distance between himself and his +victim, the adventurer eased up, took his booty from his pocket, +replaced the watch, opened the purse, and counted out the +money. Seven shillings constituted the miserable +spoil. The poor result of his efforts seemed to amuse +rather than annoy him, for <!-- page 56--><a +name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>he chuckled +as he held the two half-crowns and the florin in the glare of his +lantern. Then suddenly his manner changed. He thrust +the thin purse back into his pocket, released his brake, and shot +onwards with the same tense bearing with which he had started +upon his adventure. The lights of another car were coming +down the road.</p> +<p>On this occasion the methods of the highwayman were less +furtive. Experience had clearly given him confidence. +With lights still blazing, he ran towards the new-comers, and, +halting in the middle of the road, summoned them to stop. +From the point of view of the astonished travellers the result +was sufficiently impressive. They saw in the glare of their +own head-lights two glowing discs on either side of the long, +black-muzzled snout of a high-power car, and above the masked +face and menacing figure of its solitary driver. In the +golden circle thrown by the rover there stood an elegant, +open-topped, twenty-horse Humber, with an undersized and very +astonished chauffeur blinking from under his peaked cap. +From behind the wind-screen the veil-bound hats and wondering +faces of two very pretty young women protruded, one upon either +side, and a little crescendo of frightened squeaks announced the +acute emotion of one of them. The other was cooler and more +critical.</p> +<p><!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span>“Don’t give it away, Hilda,” she +whispered. “Do shut up, and don’t be such a +silly. It’s Bertie or one of the boys playing it on +us.”</p> +<p>“No, no! It’s the real thing, Flossie. +It’s a robber, sure enough. Oh, my goodness, whatever +shall we do?”</p> +<p>“What an ‘ad.’!” cried the +other. “Oh, what a glorious ‘ad.’! +Too late now for the mornings, but they’ll have it in every +evening paper, sure.”</p> +<p>“What’s it going to cost?” groaned the +other. “Oh, Flossie, Flossie, I’m sure +I’m going to faint! Don’t you think if we both +screamed together we could do some good? Isn’t he too +awful with that black thing over his face? Oh, dear, oh, +dear! He’s killing poor little Alf!”</p> +<p>The proceedings of the robber were indeed somewhat +alarming. Springing down from his car, he had pulled the +chauffeur out of his seat by the scruff of his neck. The +sight of the Mauser had cut short all remonstrance, and under its +compulsion the little man had pulled open the bonnet and +extracted the sparking plugs. Having thus secured the +immobility of his capture, the masked man walked forward, lantern +in hand, to the side of the car. He had laid aside the +gruff sternness with which he had treated Mr. Ronald Barker, and +his voice and manner were gentle, though determined. <!-- +page 58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +58</span>He even raised his hat as a prelude to his address.</p> +<p>“I am sorry to inconvenience you, ladies,” said +he, and his voice had gone up several notes since the previous +interview. “May I ask who you are?”</p> +<p>Miss Hilda was beyond coherent speech, but Miss Flossie was of +a sterner mould.</p> +<p>“This is a pretty business,” said she. +“What right have you to stop us on the public road, I +should like to know?”</p> +<p>“My time is short,” said the robber, in a sterner +voice. “I must ask you to answer my +question.”</p> +<p>“Tell him, Flossie! For goodness’ sake be +nice to him!” cried Hilda.</p> +<p>“Well, we’re from the Gaiety Theatre, London, if +you want to know,” said the young lady. +“Perhaps you’ve heard of Miss Flossie Thornton and +Miss Hilda Mannering? We’ve been playing a week at +the Royal at Eastbourne, and took a Sunday off to +ourselves. So now you know!”</p> +<p>“I must ask you for your purses and for your +jewellery.”</p> +<p>Both ladies set up shrill expostulations, but they found, as +Mr. Ronald Barker had done, that there was something quietly +compelling in this man’s methods. In a very few +minutes they had handed over their purses, and a pile of +glittering rings, bangles, brooches, and chains <!-- page 59--><a +name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>was lying +upon the front seat of the car. The diamonds glowed and +shimmered like little electric points in the light of the +lantern. He picked up the glittering tangle and weighed it +in his hand.</p> +<p>“Anything you particularly value?” he asked the +ladies; but Miss Flossie was in no humour for concessions.</p> +<p>“Don’t come the Claude Duval over us,” said +she. “Take the lot or leave the lot. We +don’t want bits of our own given back to us.”</p> +<p>“Except just Billy’s necklace!” cried Hilda, +and snatched at a little rope of pearls. The robber bowed, +and released his hold of it.</p> +<p>“Anything else?”</p> +<p>The valiant Flossie began suddenly to cry. Hilda did the +same. The effect upon the robber was surprising. He +threw the whole heap of jewellery into the nearest lap.</p> +<p>“There! there! Take it!” he said. +“It’s trumpery stuff, anyhow. It’s worth +something to you, and nothing to me.”</p> +<p>Tears changed in a moment to smiles.</p> +<p>“You’re welcome to the purses. The +‘ad.’ is worth ten times the money. But what a +funny way of getting a living nowadays! Aren’t you +afraid of being caught? It’s all so wonderful, like a +scene from a comedy.”</p> +<p>“It may be a tragedy,” said the robber.</p> +<p><!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span>“Oh, I hope not—I’m sure I hope +not!” cried the two ladies of the drama.</p> +<p>But the robber was in no mood for further conversation. +Far away down the road tiny points of light had appeared. +Fresh business was coming to him, and he must not mix his +cases. Disengaging his machine, he raised his hat, and +slipped off to meet this new arrival, while Miss Flossie and Miss +Hilda leaned out of their derelict car, still palpitating from +their adventure, and watched the red gleam of the tail-light +until it merged into the darkness.</p> +<p>This time there was every sign of a rich prize. Behind +its four grand lamps set in a broad frame of glittering brasswork +the magnificent sixty-horse Daimler breasted the slope with the +low, deep, even snore which proclaimed its enormous latent +strength. Like some rich-laden, high-pooped Spanish +galleon, she kept her course until the prowling craft ahead of +her swept across her bows and brought her to a sudden halt. +An angry face, red, blotched, and evil, shot out of the open +window of the closed limousine. The robber was aware of a +high, bald forehead, gross pendulous cheeks, and two little +crafty eyes which gleamed between creases of fat.</p> +<p>“Out of my way, sir! Out of my way this +instant!” cried a rasping voice. “Drive over +him, Hearn! Get down and pull him off <!-- page 61--><a +name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>the +seat. The fellow’s drunk—he’s drunk I +say!”</p> +<p>Up to this point the proceedings of the modern highwayman +might have passed as gentle. Now they turned in an instant +to savagery. The chauffeur, a burly, capable fellow, +incited by that raucous voice behind him, sprang from the car and +seized the advancing robber by the throat. The latter hit +out with the butt-end of his pistol, and the man dropped groaning +on the road. Stepping over his prostrate body the +adventurer pulled open the door, seized the stout occupant +savagely by the ear, and dragged him bellowing on to the +highway. Then, very deliberately, he struck him twice +across the face with his open hand. The blows rang out like +pistol-shots in the silence of the night. The fat traveller +turned a ghastly colour and fell back half senseless against the +side of the limousine. The robber dragged open his coat, +wrenched away the heavy gold watch-chain with all that it held, +plucked out the great diamond pin that sparkled in the black +satin tie, dragged off four rings—not one of which could +have cost less than three figures and finally tore from his inner +pocket a bulky leather note-book. All this property he +transferred to his own black overcoat, and added to it the +man’s pearl cuff-links, and even the golden stud which held +his collar. Having made sure <!-- page 62--><a +name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>that there +was nothing else to take, the robber flashed his lantern upon the +prostrate chauffeur, and satisfied himself that he was stunned +and not dead. Then, returning to the master, he proceeded +very deliberately to tear all his clothes from his body with a +ferocious energy which set his victim whimpering and writhing in +imminent expectation of murder.</p> +<p>Whatever his tormentor’s intention may have been, it was +very effectually frustrated. A sound made him turn his +head, and there, no very great distance off, were the lights of a +car coming swiftly from the north. Such a car must have +already passed the wreckage which this pirate had left behind +him. It was following his track with a deliberate purpose, +and might be crammed with every county constable of the +district.</p> +<p>The adventurer had no time to lose. He darted from his +bedraggled victim, sprang into his own seat, and with his foot on +the accelerator shot swiftly off down the road. Some way +down there was a narrow side lane, and into this the fugitive +turned, cracking on his high speed and leaving a good five miles +between him and any pursuer before he ventured to stop. +Then, in a quiet corner, he counted over his booty of the +evening—the paltry plunder of Mr. Ronald Barker, the rather +better-furnished purses of the actresses, which contained four +pounds <!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 63</span>between them, and, finally, the +gorgeous jewellery and well-filled note-book of the plutocrat +upon the Daimler. Five notes of fifty pounds, four of ten, +fifteen sovereigns, and a number of valuable papers made up a +most noble haul. It was clearly enough for one +night’s work. The adventurer replaced all his +ill-gotten gains in his pocket, and, lighting a cigarette, set +forth upon his way with the air of a man who has no further care +upon his mind.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>It was on the Monday morning following upon this eventful +evening that Sir Henry Hailworthy, of Walcot Old Place, having +finished his breakfast in a leisurely fashion, strolled down to +his study with the intention of writing a few letters before +setting forth to take his place upon the county bench. Sir +Henry was a Deputy-Lieutenant of the county; he was a baronet of +ancient blood; he was a magistrate of ten years’ standing; +and he was famous above all as the breeder of many a good horse +and the most desperate rider in all the Weald country. A +tall, upstanding man, with a strong, clean-shaven face, heavy +black eyebrows, and a square, resolute jaw, he was one whom it +was better to call friend than foe. Though nearly fifty +years of age, he bore no sign of having passed his youth, save +that Nature, in one of her freakish moods, had planted one little +feather <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>of white hair above his right ear, +making the rest of his thick black curls the darker by +contrast. He was in thoughtful mood this morning, for +having lit his pipe he sat at his desk with his blank note-paper +in front of him, lost in a deep reverie.</p> +<p>Suddenly his thoughts were brought back to the present. +From behind the laurels of the curving drive there came a low, +clanking sound, which swelled into the clatter and jingle of an +ancient car. Then from round the corner there swung an +old-fashioned Wolseley, with a fresh-complexioned, +yellow-moustached young man at the wheel. Sir Henry sprang +to his feet at the sight, and then sat down once more. He +rose again as a minute later the footman announced Mr. Ronald +Barker. It was an early visit, but Barker was Sir +Henry’s intimate friend. As each was a fine shot, +horseman, and billiard-player, there was much in common between +the two men, and the younger (and poorer) was in the habit of +spending at least two evenings a week at Walcot Old Place. +Therefore, Sir Henry advanced cordially with outstretched hand to +welcome him.</p> +<p>“You’re an early bird this morning,” said +he. “What’s up? If you are going over to +Lewes we could motor together.”</p> +<p>But the younger man’s demeanour was peculiar and +ungracious. He disregarded the hand which <!-- page 65--><a +name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>was held out +to him, and he stood pulling at his own long moustache and +staring with troubled, questioning eyes at the county +magistrate.</p> +<p>“Well, what’s the matter?” asked the +latter.</p> +<p>Still the young man did not speak. He was clearly on the +edge of an interview which he found it most difficult to +open. His host grew impatient.</p> +<p>“You don’t seem yourself this morning. What +on earth is the matter? Anything upset you?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Ronald Barker, with emphasis.</p> +<p>“What has?”</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> have.”</p> +<p>Sir Henry smiled. “Sit down, my dear fellow. +If you have any grievance against me, let me hear it.”</p> +<p>Barker sat down. He seemed to be gathering himself for a +reproach. When it did come it was like a bullet from a +gun.</p> +<p>“Why did you rob me last night?”</p> +<p>The magistrate was a man of iron nerve. He showed +neither surprise nor resentment. Not a muscle twitched upon +his calm, set face.</p> +<p>“Why do you say that I robbed you last night?”</p> +<p>“A big, tall fellow in a motor-car stopped me on the +Mayfield road. He poked a pistol <!-- page 66--><a +name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>in my face +and took my purse and my watch. Sir Henry, that man was +you.”</p> +<p>The magistrate smiled.</p> +<p>“Am I the only big, tall man in the district? Am I +the only man with a motor-car?”</p> +<p>“Do you think I couldn’t tell a Rolls-Royce when I +see it—I, who spend half my life on a car and the other +half under it? Who has a Rolls-Royce about here except +you?”</p> +<p>“My dear Barker, don’t you think that such a +modern highwayman as you describe would be more likely to operate +outside his own district? How many hundred Rolls-Royces are +there in the South of England?”</p> +<p>“No, it won’t do, Sir Henry—it won’t +do! Even your voice, though you sunk it a few notes, was +familiar enough to me. But hang it, man! What did you +do it <i>for</i>? That’s what gets over me. +That you should stick up me, one of your closest friends, a man +that worked himself to the bone when you stood for the +division—and all for the sake of a Brummagem watch and a +few shillings—is simply incredible.”</p> +<p>“Simply incredible,” repeated the magistrate, with +a smile.</p> +<p>“And then those actresses, poor little devils, who have +to earn all they get. I followed you down the road, you +see. That was a dirty trick, if ever I heard one. The +City shark was different. <!-- page 67--><a +name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>If a chap +must go a-robbing, that sort of fellow is fair game. But +your friend, and then the girls—well, I say again, I +couldn’t have believed it.”</p> +<p>“Then why believe it?”</p> +<p>“Because it <i>is</i> so.”</p> +<p>“Well, you seem to have persuaded yourself to that +effect. You don’t seem to have much evidence to lay +before any one else.”</p> +<p>“I could swear to you in a police-court. What put +the lid on it was that when you were cutting my wire—and an +infernal liberty it was!—I saw that white tuft of yours +sticking out from behind your mask.”</p> +<p>For the first time an acute observer might have seen some +slight sign of emotion upon the face of the baronet.</p> +<p>“You seem to have a fairly vivid imagination,” +said he.</p> +<p>His visitor flushed with anger.</p> +<p>“See here, Hailworthy,” said he, opening his hand +and showing a small, jagged triangle of black cloth. +“Do you see that? It was on the ground near the car +of the young women. You must have ripped it off as you +jumped out from your seat. Now send for that heavy black +driving-coat of yours. If you don’t ring the bell +I’ll ring it myself, and we shall have it in. +I’m going to see this thing through, and don’t you +make any mistake about that.”</p> +<p><!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>The baronet’s answer was a surprising one. +He rose, passed Barker’s chair, and, walking over to the +door, he locked it and placed the key in his pocket.</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> going to see it through,” said +he. “I’ll lock you in until you do. Now +we must have a straight talk, Barker, as man to man, and whether +it ends in tragedy or not depends on you.”</p> +<p>He had half-opened one of the drawers in his desk as he +spoke. His visitor frowned in anger.</p> +<p>“You won’t make matters any better by threatening +me, Hailworthy. I am going to do my duty, and you +won’t bluff me out of it.”</p> +<p>“I have no wish to bluff you. When I spoke of a +tragedy I did not mean to you. What I meant was that there +are some turns which this affair cannot be allowed to take. +I have neither kith nor kin, but there is the family honour, and +some things are impossible.”</p> +<p>“It is late to talk like that.”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps it is; but not too late. And now I +have a good deal to say to you. First of all, you are quite +right, and it was I who held you up last night on the Mayfield +road.”</p> +<p>“But why on earth—”</p> +<p>“All right. Let me tell it my own way. First +I want you to look at these.” He unlocked a drawer +and he took out two small packages. “These were to be +posted in London <!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 69</span>to-night. This one is addressed +to you, and I may as well hand it over to you at once. It +contains your watch and your purse. So, you see, bar your +cut wire you would have been none the worse for your +adventure. This other packet is addressed to the young +ladies of the Gaiety Theatre, and their properties are +enclosed. I hope I have convinced you that I had intended +full reparation in each case before you came to accuse +me?”</p> +<p>“Well?” asked Barker.</p> +<p>“Well, we will now deal with Sir George Wilde, who is, +as you may not know, the senior partner of Wilde and Guggendorf, +the founders of the Ludgate Bank of infamous memory. His +chauffeur is a case apart. You may take it from me, upon my +word of honour, that I had plans for the chauffeur. But it +is the master that I want to speak of. You know that I am +not a rich man myself. I expect all the county knows +that. When Black Tulip lost the Derby I was hard hit. +And other things as well. Then I had a legacy of a +thousand. This infernal bank was paying 7 per cent. on +deposits. I knew Wilde. I saw him. I asked him +if it was safe. He said it was. I paid it in, and +within forty-eight hours the whole thing went to bits. It +came out before the Official Receiver that Wilde had known for +three months that nothing could save him. And yet he took +all <!-- page 70--><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>my cargo aboard his sinking vessel. He was all +right—confound him! He had plenty besides. But +I had lost all my money and no law could help me. Yet he +had robbed me as clearly as one man could rob another. I +saw him and he laughed in my face. Told me to stick to +Consols, and that the lesson was cheap at the price. So I +just swore that, by hook or by crook, I would get level with +him. I knew his habits, for I had made it my business to do +so. I knew that he came back from Eastbourne on Sunday +nights. I knew that he carried a good sum with him in his +pocket-book. Well it’s <i>my</i> pocket-book +now. Do you mean to tell me that I’m not morally +justified in what I have done? By the Lord, I’d have +left the devil as bare as he left many a widow and orphan, if +I’d had the time!”</p> +<p>“That’s all very well. But what about +me? What about the girls?”</p> +<p>“Have some common sense, Barker. Do you suppose +that I could go and stick up this one personal enemy of mine and +escape detection? It was impossible. I was bound to +make myself out to be just a common robber who had run up against +him by accident. So I turned myself loose on the high road +and took my chance. As the devil would have it, the first +man I met was yourself. I was a fool not to recognise that +old ironmonger’s store of yours <!-- page 71--><a +name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>by the row it +made coming up the hill. When I saw you I could hardly +speak for laughing. But I was bound to carry it +through. The same with the actresses. I’m +afraid I gave myself away, for I couldn’t take their little +fal-lals, but I had to keep up a show. Then came my man +himself. There was no bluff about that. I was out to +skin him, and I did. Now, Barker, what do you think of it +all? I had a pistol at your head last night, and, by +George! whether you believe it or not, you have one at mine this +morning!”</p> +<p>The young man rose slowly, and with a broad smile he wrung the +magistrate by the hand.</p> +<p>“Don’t do it again. It’s too +risky,” said he. “The swine would score heavily +if you were taken.”</p> +<p>“You’re a good chap, Barker,” said the +magistrate. “No, I won’t do it again. +Who’s the fellow who talks of ‘one crowded hour of +glorious life’? By George! it’s too +fascinating. I had the time of my life! Talk of +fox-hunting! No, I’ll never touch it again, for it +might get a grip of me.”</p> +<p>A telephone rang sharply upon the table, and the baronet put +the receiver to his ear. As he listened he smiled across at +his companion.</p> +<p>“I’m rather late this morning,” said he, +“and they are waiting for me to try some petty larcenies on +the county bench.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +72</span>III. A POINT OF VIEW</h2> +<p>It was an American journalist who was writing up +England—or writing her down as the mood seized him. +Sometimes he blamed and sometimes he praised, and the +case-hardened old country actually went its way all the time +quite oblivious of his approval or of his disfavour—being +ready at all times, through some queer mental twist, to say more +bitter things and more unjust ones about herself than any critic +could ever venture upon. However, in the course of his many +columns in the <i>New York Clarion</i> our journalist did at last +get through somebody’s skin in the way that is here +narrated.</p> +<p>It was a kindly enough article upon English country-house life +in which he had described a visit paid for a week-end to Sir +Henry Trustall’s. There was only a single critical +passage in it, and it was one which he had written with a sense +both of journalistic and of democratic satisfaction. In it +he had sketched off the <!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 73</span>lofty obsequiousness of the flunkey +who had ministered to his needs. “He seemed to take a +smug satisfaction in his own degradation,” said he. +“Surely the last spark of manhood must have gone from the +man who has so entirely lost his own individuality. He +revelled in humility. He was an instrument of +service—nothing more.”</p> +<p>Some months had passed and our American Pressman had recorded +impressions from St. Petersburg to Madrid. He was on his +homeward way when once again he found himself the guest of Sir +Henry. He had returned from an afternoon’s shooting, +and had finished dressing when there was a knock at the door and +the footman entered. He was a large cleanly-built man, as +is proper to a class who are chosen with a keener eye to physique +than any crack regiment. The American supposed that the man +had entered to perform some menial service, but to his surprise +he softly closed the door behind him.</p> +<p>“Might I have a word with you, sir, if you can kindly +give me a moment?” he said in the velvety voice which +always got upon the visitor’s republican nerves.</p> +<p>“Well, what is it?” the journalist asked +sharply.</p> +<p>“It’s this, sir.” The footman drew +from his breast-pocket the copy of the <i>Clarion</i>. +“A <!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 74</span>friend over the water chanced to see +this, sir, and he thought it would be of interest to me. So +he sent it.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“You wrote it, sir, I fancy.”</p> +<p>“What if I did.”</p> +<p>“And this ’ere footman is your idea of +me.”</p> +<p>The American glanced at the passage and approved his own +phrases.</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s you,” he admitted.</p> +<p>The footman folded up his document once more and replaced it +in his pocket.</p> +<p>“I’d like to ’ave a word or two with you +over that, sir,” he said in the same suave imperturbable +voice. “I don’t think, sir, that you quite see +the thing from our point of view. I’d like to put it +to you as I see it myself. Maybe it would strike you +different then.”</p> +<p>The American became interested. There was +“copy” in the air.</p> +<p>“Sit down,” said he.</p> +<p>“No, sir, begging your pardon, sir, I’d very much +rather stand.”</p> +<p>“Well, do as you please. If you’ve got +anything to say, get ahead with it.”</p> +<p>“You see, sir, it’s like this: There’s a +tradition—what you might call a standard—among the +best servants, and it’s ’anded down from one to the +other. When I joined I was a third, <!-- page 75--><a +name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>and my chief +and the butler were both old men who had been trained by the +best. I took after them just as they took after those that +went before them. It goes back away further than you can +tell.”</p> +<p>“I can understand that.”</p> +<p>“But what perhaps you don’t so well understand, +sir, is the spirit that’s lying behind it. +There’s a man’s own private self-respect to which you +allude, sir, in this ’ere article. That’s his +own. But he can’t keep it, so far as I can see, +unless he returns good service for the good money that he +takes.”</p> +<p>“Well, he can do that +without—without—crawling.”</p> +<p>The footman’s florid face paled a little at the +word. Apparently he was not quite the automatic machine +that he appeared.</p> +<p>“By your leave, sir, we’ll come to that +later,” said he. “But I want you to understand +what we are trying to do even when you don’t approve of our +way of doing it. We are trying to make life smooth and easy +for our master and for our master’s guests. We do it +in the way that’s been ’anded down to us as the best +way. If our master could suggest any better way, then it +would be our place either to leave his service if we disapproved +it, or else to try and do it as he wanted. It would hurt +the self-respect of any good servant to take a man’s <!-- +page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>money and not give him the very best he can in return +for it.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said the American, “it’s not +quite as we see it in America.”</p> +<p>“That’s right, sir. I was over there last +year with Sir Henry—in New York, sir, and I saw something +of the men-servants and their ways. They were paid for +service, sir, and they did not give what they were paid +for. You talk about self-respect, sir, in this +article. Well now, my self-respect wouldn’t let me +treat a master as I’ve seen them do over there.”</p> +<p>“We don’t even like the word +‘master,’” said the American.</p> +<p>“Well, that’s neither ’ere nor there, sir, +if I may be so bold as to say so. If you’re serving a +gentleman he’s your master for the time being and any name +you may choose to call it by don’t make no +difference. But you can’t eat your cake and +’ave it, sir. You can’t sell your independence +and ’ave it, too.”</p> +<p>“Maybe not,” said the American. “All +the same, the fact remains that your manhood is the worse for +it.”</p> +<p>“There I don’t ’old with you, +sir.”</p> +<p>“If it were not, you wouldn’t be standing there +arguing so quietly. You’d speak to me in another +tone, I guess.”</p> +<p>“You must remember, sir, that you are my master’s +guest, and that I am paid to wait upon <!-- page 77--><a +name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>you and make +your visit a pleasant one. So long as you are ’ere, +sir, that is ’ow I regard it. Now in +London—”</p> +<p>“Well, what about London?”</p> +<p>“Well, in London if you would have the goodness to let +me have a word with you I could make you understand a little +clearer what I am trying to explain to you. ’Arding +is my name, sir. If you get a call from ’Enery +’Arding, you’ll know that I ’ave a word to say +to you.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>So it happened about three days later that our American +journalist in his London hotel received a letter that a Mr. Henry +Harding desired to speak with him. The man was waiting in +the hall dressed in quiet tweeds. He had cast his manner +with his uniform and was firmly deliberate in all he said and +did. The professional silkiness was gone, and his bearing +was all that the most democratic could desire.</p> +<p>“It’s courteous of you to see me, sir,” said +he. “There’s that matter of the article still +open between us, and I would like to have a word or two more +about it.”</p> +<p>“Well, I can give you just ten minutes,” said the +American journalist.</p> +<p>“I understand that you are a busy man, sir, so +I’ll cut it as short as I can. There’s a public +<!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>garden opposite if you would be so good as talk it over +in the open air.”</p> +<p>The Pressman took his hat and accompanied the footman. +They walked together down the winding gravelled path among the +rhododendron bushes.</p> +<p>“It’s like this, sir,” said the footman, +halting when they had arrived at a quiet nook. “I was +hoping that you would see it in our light and understand me when +I told you that the servant who was trying to give honest service +for his master’s money, and the man who is free born and as +good as his neighbour are two separate folk. There’s +the duty man and there’s the natural man, and they are +different men. To say that I have no life of my own, or +self-respect of my own, because there are days when I give myself +to the service of another, is not fair treatment. I was +hoping, sir, that when I made this clear to you, you would have +met me like a man and taken it back.”</p> +<p>“Well, you have not convinced me,” said the +American. “A man’s a man, and he’s +responsible for all his actions.”</p> +<p>“Then you won’t take back what you said of +me—the degradation and the rest?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t see why I should.”</p> +<p>The man’s comely face darkened.</p> +<p>“You <i>will</i> take it back,” said he. +“I’ll smash your blasted head if you +don’t.”</p> +<p><!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>The American was suddenly aware that he was in the +presence of a very ugly proposition. The man was large, +strong, and evidently most earnest and determined. His +brows were knotted, his eyes flashing, and his fists +clenched. On neutral ground he struck the journalist as +really being a very different person to the obsequious and silken +footman of Trustall Old Manor. The American had all the +courage, both of his race and of his profession, but he realised +suddenly that he was very much in the wrong. He was man +enough to say so.</p> +<p>“Well, sir, this once,” said the footman, as they +shook hands. “I don’t approve of the +mixin’ of classes—none of the best servants do. +But I’m on my own to-day, so we’ll let it pass. +But I wish you’d set it right with your people, sir. +I wish you would make them understand that an English servant can +give good and proper service and yet that he’s a human +bein’ I after all.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>IV. THE FALL OF LORD BARRYMORE</h2> +<p>These are few social historians of those days who have not +told of the long and fierce struggle between those two famous +bucks, Sir Charles Tregellis and Lord Barrymore, for the Lordship +of the Kingdom of St. James, a struggle which divided the whole +of fashionable London into two opposing camps. It has been +chronicled also how the peer retired suddenly and the commoner +resumed his great career without a rival. Only here, +however, one can read the real and remarkable reason for this +sudden eclipse of a star.</p> +<p>It was one morning in the days of this famous struggle that +Sir Charles Tregellis was performing his very complicated toilet, +and Ambrose, his valet, was helping him to attain that pitch of +perfection which had long gained him the reputation of being the +best-dressed man in town. Suddenly Sir Charles paused, his +<i>coup d’archet</i> half-executed, the final beauty of his +neck-cloth half-achieved, while he listened with <!-- page +81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +81</span>surprise and indignation upon his large, comely, +fresh-complexioned face. Below, the decorous hum of Jermyn +Street had been broken by the sharp, staccato, metallic beating +of a doorknocker.</p> +<p>“I begin to think that this uproar must be at our +door,” said Sir Charles, as one who thinks aloud. +“For five minutes it has come and gone; yet Perkins has his +orders.”</p> +<p>At a gesture from his master Ambrose stepped out upon the +balcony and craned his discreet head over it. From the +street below came a voice, drawling but clear.</p> +<p>“You would oblige me vastly, fellow, if you would do me +the favour to open this door,” said the voice.</p> +<p>“Who is it? What is it?” asked the +scandalised Sir Charles, with his arrested elbow still pointing +upwards.</p> +<p>Ambrose had returned with as much surprise upon his dark face +as the etiquette of his position would allow him to show.</p> +<p>“It is a young gentleman, Sir Charles.”</p> +<p>“A young gentleman? There is no one in London who +is not aware that I do not show before midday. Do you know +the person? Have you seen him before?”</p> +<p>“I have not seen him, sir, but he is very like some one +I could name.”</p> +<p>“Like some one? Like whom?”</p> +<p><!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>“With all respect, Sir Charles, I could for a +moment have believed that it was yourself when I looked +down. A smaller man, sir, and a youth; but the voice, the +face, the bearing—”</p> +<p>“It must be that young cub Vereker, my brother’s +ne’er-do-weel,” muttered Sir Charles, continuing his +toilet. “I have heard that there are points in which +he resembles me. He wrote from Oxford that he would come, +and I answered that I would not see him. Yet he ventures to +insist. The fellow needs a lesson! Ambrose, ring for +Perkins.”</p> +<p>A large footman entered with an outraged expression upon his +face.</p> +<p>“I cannot have this uproar at the door, +Perkins!”</p> +<p>“If you please, the young gentleman won’t go away, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Won’t go away? It is your duty to see that +he goes away. Have you not your orders? Didn’t +you tell him that I am not seen before midday?”</p> +<p>“I said so, sir. He would have pushed his way in, +for all I could say, so I slammed the door in his +face.”</p> +<p>“Very right, Perkins.”</p> +<p>“But now, sir, he is making such a din that all the folk +are at the windows. There is a crowd gathering in the +street, sir.”</p> +<p><!-- page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>From below came the crack-crack-crack of the knocker, +ever rising in insistence, with a chorus of laughter and +encouraging comments from the spectators. Sir Charles +flushed with anger. There must be some limit to such +impertinence.</p> +<p>“My clouded amber cane is in the corner,” said +he. “Take it with you, Perkins. I give you a +free hand. A stripe or two may bring the young rascal to +reason.”</p> +<p>The large Perkins smiled and departed. The door was +heard to open below and the knocker was at rest. A few +moments later there followed a prolonged howl and a noise as of a +beaten carpet. Sir Charles listened with a smile which +gradually faded from his good-humoured face.</p> +<p>“The fellow must not overdo it,” he +muttered. “I would not do the lad an injury, whatever +his deserts may be. Ambrose, run out on the balcony and +call him off. This has gone far enough.”</p> +<p>But before the valet could move there came the swift patter of +agile feet upon the stairs, and a handsome youth, dressed in the +height of fashion, was standing framed in the open doorway. +The pose, the face, above all the curious, mischievous, dancing +light in the large blue eyes, all spoke of the famous Tregellis +blood. Even such was Sir Charles when, twenty <!-- page +84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>years +before, he had, by virtue of his spirit and audacity, in one +short season taken a place in London from which Brummell himself +had afterwards vainly struggled to depose him. The youth +faced the angry features of his uncle with an air of debonair +amusement, and he held towards him, upon his outstretched palms, +the broken fragments of an amber cane.</p> +<p>“I much fear, sir,” said he, “that in +correcting your fellow I have had the misfortune to injure what +can only have been your property. I am vastly concerned +that it should have occurred.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles stared with intolerant eyes at this impertinent +apparition. The other looked back in a laughable parody of +his senior’s manner. As Ambrose had remarked after +his inspection from the balcony, the two were very alike, save +that the younger was smaller, finer cut, and the more nervously +alive of the two.</p> +<p>“You are my nephew, Vereker Tregellis?” asked Sir +Charles.</p> +<p>“Yours to command, sir.”</p> +<p>“I hear bad reports of you from Oxford.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I understand that the reports <i>are</i> +bad.”</p> +<p>“Nothing could be worse.”</p> +<p>“So I have been told.”</p> +<p>“Why are you here, sir?”</p> +<p>“That I might see my famous uncle.”</p> +<p><!-- page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>“So you made a tumult in his street, forced his +door, and beat his footman?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“You had my letter?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“You were told that I was not receiving?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“I can remember no such exhibition of +impertinence.”</p> +<p>The young man smiled and rubbed his hands in satisfaction.</p> +<p>“There is an impertinence which is redeemed by +wit,” said Sir Charles, severely. “There is +another which is the mere boorishness of the clodhopper. As +you grow older and wiser you may discern the +difference.”</p> +<p>“You are very right, sir,” said the young man, +warmly. “The finer shades of impertinence are +infinitely subtle, and only experience and the society of one who +is a recognised master”—here he bowed to his +uncle—“can enable one to excel.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles was notoriously touchy in temper for the first +hour after his morning chocolate. He allowed himself to +show it.</p> +<p>“I cannot congratulate my brother upon his son,” +said he. “I had hoped for something more worthy of +our traditions.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps, sir, upon a longer +acquaintance—”</p> +<p><!-- page 86--><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>“The chance is too small to justify the very +irksome experience. I must ask you, sir, to bring to a +close a visit which never should have been made.”</p> +<p>The young man smiled affably, but gave no sign of +departure.</p> +<p>“May I ask, sir,” said he, in an easy +conversational fashion, “whether you can recall Principal +Munro, of my college?”</p> +<p>“No, sir, I cannot,” his uncle answered, +sharply.</p> +<p>“Naturally you would not burden your memory to such an +extent, but he still remembers you. In some conversation +with him yesterday he did me the honour to say that I brought you +back to his recollection by what he was pleased to call the +mingled levity and obstinacy of my character. The levity +seems to have already impressed you. I am now reduced to +showing you the obstinacy.” He sat down in a chair +near the door and folded his arms, still beaming pleasantly at +his uncle.</p> +<p>“Oh, you won’t go?” asked Sir Charles, +grimly.</p> +<p>“No, sir; I will stay.”</p> +<p>“Ambrose, step down and call a couple of +chairmen.”</p> +<p>“I should not advise it, sir. They will be +hurt.”</p> +<p>“I will put you out with my own hands.”</p> +<p><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>“That, sir, you can always do. As my uncle, +I could scarce resist you. But, short of throwing me down +the stair, I do not see how you can avoid giving me half an hour +of your attention.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles smiled. He could not help it. There +was so much that was reminiscent of his own arrogant and eventful +youth in the bearing of this youngster. He was mollified, +too, by the defiance of menials and quick submission to +himself. He turned to the glass and signed to Ambrose to +continue his duties.</p> +<p>“I must ask you to await the conclusion of my +toilet,” said he. “Then we shall see how far +you can justify such an intrusion.”</p> +<p>When the valet had at last left the room Sir Charles turned +his attention once more to his scapegrace nephew, who had viewed +the details of the famous buck’s toilet with the face of an +acolyte assisting at a mystery.</p> +<p>“Now, sir,” said the older man, “speak, and +speak to the point, for I can assure you that I have many more +important matters which claim my attention. The Prince is +waiting for me at the present instant at Carlton House. Be +as brief as you can. What is it that you want?”</p> +<p>“A thousand pounds.”</p> +<p>“Really! Nothing more?” Sir Charles had +turned acid again.</p> +<p><!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>“Yes, sir; an introduction to Mr. Brinsley +Sheridan, whom I know to be your friend.”</p> +<p>“And why to him?”</p> +<p>“Because I am told that he controls Drury Lane Theatre, +and I have a fancy to be an actor. My friends assure me +that I have a pretty talent that way.”</p> +<p>“I can see you clearly, sir, in Charles Surface, or any +other part where a foppish insolence is the essential. The +less you acted, the better you would be. But it is absurd +to suppose that I could help you to such a career. I could +not justify it to your father. Return to Oxford at once, +and continue your studies.”</p> +<p>“Impossible!”</p> +<p>“And pray, sir, what is the impediment?”</p> +<p>“I think I may have mentioned to you that I had an +interview yesterday with the Principal. He ended it by +remarking that the authorities of the University could tolerate +me no more.”</p> +<p>“Sent down?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“And this is the fruit, no doubt, of a long series of +rascalities.”</p> +<p>“Something of the sort, sir, I admit.”</p> +<p>In spite of himself, Sir Charles began once more to relax in +his severity towards this handsome young scapegrace. His +absolute frankness disarmed criticism. It was in a more +<!-- page 89--><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +89</span>gracious voice that the older man continued the +conversation.</p> +<p>“Why do you want this large sum of money?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“To pay my college debts before I go, sir.”</p> +<p>“Your father is not a rich man.”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I could not apply to him for that +reason.”</p> +<p>“So you come to me, who am a stranger!”</p> +<p>“No, sir, no! You are my uncle, and, if I may say +so, my ideal and my model.”</p> +<p>“You flatter me, my good Vereker. But if you think +you can flatter me out of a thousand pounds, you mistake your +man. I will give you no money.”</p> +<p>“Of course, sir, if you can’t—”</p> +<p>“I did not say I can’t. I say I +won’t.”</p> +<p>“If you can, sir, I think you will.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles smiled, and flicked his sleeve with his lace +handkerchief.</p> +<p>“I find you vastly entertaining,” said he. +“Pray continue your conversation. Why do you think +that I will give you so large a sum of money?”</p> +<p>“The reason that I think so,” continued the +younger man, “is that I can do you a service which will +seem to you worth a thousand pounds.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise.</p> +<p>“Is this blackmail?” he inquired.</p> +<p><!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>Vereker Tregellis flushed.</p> +<p>“Sir,” said he, with a pleasing sternness, +“you surprise me. You should know the blood of which +I come too well to suppose that I would attempt such a +thing.”</p> +<p>“I am relieved to hear that there are limits to what you +consider to be justifiable. I must confess that I had seen +none in your conduct up to now. But you say that you can do +me a service which will be worth a thousand pounds to +me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“And pray, sir, what may this service be?”</p> +<p>“To make Lord Barrymore the laughing-stock of the +town.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles, in spite of himself, lost for an instant the +absolute serenity of his self-control. He started, and his +face expressed his surprise. By what devilish instinct did +this raw undergraduate find the one chink in his armour? +Deep in his heart, unacknowledged to any one, there was the will +to pay many a thousand pounds to the man who would bring ridicule +upon this his most dangerous rival, who was challenging his +supremacy in fashionable London.</p> +<p>“Did you come from Oxford with this precious +project?” he asked, after a pause.</p> +<p>“No, sir. I chanced to see the man himself last +night, and I conceived an ill-will to him, and would do him a +mischief.”</p> +<p><!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +91</span>“Where did you see him?”</p> +<p>“I spent the evening, sir, at the Vauxhall +Gardens.”</p> +<p>“No doubt you would,” interpolated his uncle.</p> +<p>“My Lord Barrymore was there. He was attended by +one who was dressed as a clergyman, but who was, as I am told, +none other than Hooper the Tinman, who acts as his bully and +thrashes all who may offend him. Together they passed down +the central path, insulting the women and browbeating the +men. They actually hustled me. I was offended, +sir—so much so that I nearly took the matter in hand then +and there.”</p> +<p>“It is as well that you did not. The prizefighter +would have beaten you.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps so, sir—and also, perhaps not.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you add pugilism to your elegant +accomplishments?”</p> +<p>The young man laughed pleasantly.</p> +<p>“William Ball is the only professor of my Alma Mater who +has ever had occasion to compliment me, sir. He is better +known as the Oxford Pet. I think, with all modesty, that I +could hold him for a dozen rounds. But last night I +suffered the annoyance without protest, for since it is said that +the same scene is enacted every evening, there is always time to +act.”</p> +<p><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +92</span>“And how would you act, may I ask?”</p> +<p>“That, sir, I should prefer to keep to myself; but my +aim, as I say, would be to make Lord Barrymore a laughing-stock +to all London.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles cogitated for a moment.</p> +<p>“Pray, sir,” said he, “why did you imagine +that any humiliation to Lord Barrymore would be pleasing to +me?”</p> +<p>“Even in the provinces we know something of what passes +in polite circles. Your antagonism to this man is to be +found in every column of fashionable gossip. The town is +divided between you. It is impossible that any public +slight upon him should be unpleasing to you.”</p> +<p>Sir Charles smiled.</p> +<p>“You are a shrewd reasoner,” said he. +“We will suppose for the instant that you are right. +Can you give me no hint what means you would adopt to attain this +very desirable end?”</p> +<p>“I would merely make the remark, sir, that many women +have been wronged by this fellow. That is a matter of +common knowledge. If one of these damsels were to upbraid +him in public in such a fashion that the sympathy of the +bystanders should be with her, then I can imagine, if she were +sufficiently persistent, that his lordship’s position might +become an unenviable one.”</p> +<p>“And you know such a woman?”</p> +<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>“I think, sir, that I do.”</p> +<p>“Well, my good Vereker, if any such attempt is in your +mind, I see no reason why I should stand between Lord Barrymore +and the angry fair. As to whether the result is worth a +thousand pounds, I can make no promise.”</p> +<p>“You shall yourself be the judge, sir.”</p> +<p>“I will be an exacting judge, nephew.”</p> +<p>“Very good, sir; I should not desire otherwise. If +things go as I hope, his lordship will not show face in St. +James’s Street for a year to come. I will now, if I +may, give you your instructions.”</p> +<p>“My instructions! What do you mean? I have +nothing to do with the matter.”</p> +<p>“You are the judge, sir, and therefore must be +present.”</p> +<p>“I can play no part.”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I would not ask you to do more than be a +witness.”</p> +<p>“What, then, are my instructions, as you are pleased to +call them?”</p> +<p>“You will come to the Gardens to-night, uncle, at nine +o’clock precisely. You will walk down the centre +path, and you will seat yourself upon one of the rustic seats +which are beside the statue of Aphrodite. You will wait and +you will observe.”</p> +<p>“Very good; I will do so. I begin to perceive, +nephew, that the breed of Tregellis has <!-- page 94--><a +name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>not yet lost +some of the points which have made it famous.”</p> +<p>It was at the stroke of nine that night when Sir Charles, +throwing his reins to the groom, descended from his high yellow +phaeton, which forthwith turned to take its place in the long +line of fashionable carriages waiting for their owners. As +he entered the gate of the Gardens, the centre at that time of +the dissipation and revelry of London, he turned up the collar of +his driving-cape and drew his hat over his eyes, for he had no +desire to be personally associated with what might well prove to +be a public scandal. In spite of his attempted disguise, +however, there was that in his walk and his carriage which caused +many an eye to be turned after him as he passed and many a hand +to be raised in salute. Sir Charles walked on, and, seating +himself upon the rustic bench in front of the famous statue, +which was in the very middle of the Gardens, he waited in amused +suspense to see the next act in this comedy.</p> +<p>From the pavilion, whence the paths radiated, there came the +strains of the band of the Foot Guards, and by the many-coloured +lamps twinkling from every tree Sir Charles could see the +confused whirl of the dancers. Suddenly the music +stopped. The quadrilles were at an end.</p> +<p>An instant afterwards the central path by <!-- page 95--><a +name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>which he sat +was thronged by the revellers. In a many-coloured crowd, +stocked and cravated with all the bravery of buff and plum-colour +and blue, the bucks of the town passed and repassed with their +high-waisted, straight-skirted, be-bonneted ladies upon their +arms.</p> +<p>It was not a decorous assembly. Many of the men, flushed +and noisy, had come straight from their potations. The +women, too, were loud and aggressive. Now and then, with a +rush and a swirl, amid a chorus of screams from the girls and +good-humoured laughter from their escorts, some band of +high-blooded, noisy youths would break their way across the +moving throng. It was no place for the prim or demure, and +there was a spirit of good-nature and merriment among the crowd +which condoned the wildest liberty.</p> +<p>And yet there were some limits to what could be tolerated even +by so Bohemian an assembly. A murmur of anger followed in +the wake of two roisterers who were making their way down the +path. It would, perhaps, be fairer to say one roisterer; +for of the two it was only the first who carried himself with +such insolence, although it was the second who ensured that he +could do it with impunity.</p> +<p>The leader was a very tall, hatchet-faced man, dressed in the +very height of fashion, whose evil, handsome features were +flushed <!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 96</span>with wine and arrogance. He +shouldered his way roughly through the crowd, peering with an +abominable smile into the faces of the women, and occasionally, +where the weakness of the escort invited an insult, stretching +out his hand and caressing the cheek or neck of some passing +girl, laughing loudly as she winced away from his touch.</p> +<p>Close at his heels walked his hired attendant, whom, out of +insolent caprice and with a desire to show his contempt for the +prejudices of others, he had dressed as a rough country +clergyman. This fellow slouched along with frowning brows +and surly, challenging eyes, like some faithful, hideous human +bulldog, his knotted hands protruding from his rusty cassock, his +great underhung jaw turning slowly from right to left as he +menaced the crowd with his sinister gaze. Already a close +observer might have marked upon his face a heaviness and +looseness of feature, the first signs of that physical decay +which in a very few years was to stretch him, a helpless wreck, +too weak to utter his own name, upon the causeway of the London +streets. At present, however, he was still an unbeaten man, +the terror of the Ring, and as his ill-omened face was seen +behind his infamous master many a half-raised cane was lowered +and many a hot word was checked, while the whisper of +“Hooper! ’Ware Bully <!-- page 97--><a +name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>Hooper!” warned all who were aggrieved that it +might be best to pocket their injuries lest some even worse thing +should befall them. Many a maimed and disfigured man had +carried away from Vauxhall the handiwork of the Tinman and his +patron.</p> +<p>Moving in insolent slowness through the crowd, the bully and +his master had just come opposite to the bench upon which sat Sir +Charles Tregellis. At this place the path opened up into a +circular space, brilliantly illuminated and surrounded by rustic +seats. From one of these an elderly, ringleted woman, +deeply veiled, rose suddenly and barred the path of the +swaggering nobleman. Her voice sounded clear and strident +above the babel of tongues, which hushed suddenly that their +owners might hear it.</p> +<p>“Marry her, my lord! I entreat you to marry +her! Oh, surely you will marry my poor Amelia!” said +the voice.</p> +<p>Lord Barrymore stood aghast. From all sides folk were +closing in and heads were peering over shoulders. He tried +to push on, but the lady barred his way and two palms pressed +upon his beruffled front.</p> +<p>“Surely, surely you would not desert her! Take the +advice of that good, kind clergyman behind you!” wailed the +voice. “Oh, be a man of honour and marry +her!”</p> +<p>The elderly lady thrust out her hand and <!-- page 98--><a +name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>drew forward +a lumpish-looking young woman, who sobbed and mopped her eyes +with her handkerchief.</p> +<p>“The plague take you!” roared his lordship, in a +fury. “Who is the wench? I vow that I never +clapped eyes on either of you in my life!”</p> +<p>“It is my niece Amelia,” cried the lady, +“your own loving Amelia! Oh, my lord, can you pretend +that you have forgotten poor, trusting Amelia, of Woodbine +Cottage at Lichfield.”</p> +<p>“I never set foot in Lichfield in my life!” cried +the peer. “You are two impostors who should be +whipped at the cart’s tail.”</p> +<p>“Oh, wicked! Oh, Amelia!” screamed the lady, +in a voice that resounded through the Gardens. “Oh, +my darling, try to soften his hard heart; pray him that he make +an honest woman of you at last.”</p> +<p>With a lurch the stout young woman fell forward and embraced +Lord Barrymore with the hug of a bear. He would have raised +his cane, but his arms were pinned to his sides.</p> +<p>“Hooper! Hooper!” screamed the furious peer, +craning his neck in horror, for the girl seemed to be trying to +kiss him.</p> +<p>But the bruiser, as he ran forward, found himself entangled +with the old lady.</p> +<p>“Out o’ the way, marm!” he cried. +“Out <!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 99</span>o’ the way, I say!” and +pushed her violently aside.</p> +<p>“Oh, you rude, rude man!” she shrieked, springing +back in front of him. “He hustled me, good people; +you saw him hustle me! A clergyman, but no gentleman! +What! you would treat a lady so—you would do it +again? Oh, I could slap, slap, slap you!”</p> +<p>And with each repetition of the word, with extraordinary +swiftness, her open palm rang upon the prizefighter’s +cheek.</p> +<p>The crowd buzzed with amazement and delight.</p> +<p>“Hooper! Hooper!” cried Lord Barrymore once +more, for he was still struggling in the ever-closer embrace of +the unwieldy and amorous Amelia.</p> +<p>The bully again pushed forward to the aid of his patron, but +again the elderly lady confronted him, her head back, her left +arm extended, her whole attitude, to his amazement, that of an +expert boxer.</p> +<p>The prizefighter’s brutal nature was roused. Woman +or no woman, he would show the murmuring crowd what it meant to +cross the path of the Tinman. She had struck him. She +must take the consequence. No one should square up to him +with impunity. He swung his right with a curse. The +bonnet instantly ducked under his arm, and a line of razor-like +knuckles left an open cut under his eye.</p> +<p><!-- page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +100</span>Amid wild cries of delight and encouragement from the +dense circle of spectators, the lady danced round the sham +clergyman, dodging his ponderous blows, slipping under his arms, +and smacking back at him most successfully. Once she +tripped and fell over her own skirt, but was up and at him again +in an instant.</p> +<p>“You vulgar fellow!” she shrieked. +“Would you strike a helpless woman! Take that! +Oh, you rude and ill-bred man!”</p> +<p>Bully Hooper was cowed for the first time in his life by the +extraordinary thing that he was fighting. The creature was +as elusive as a shadow, and yet the blood was dripping down his +chin from the effects of the blows. He shrank back with an +amazed face from so uncanny an antagonist. And in the +moment that he did so his spell was for ever broken. Only +success could hold it. A check was fatal. In all the +crowd there was scarce one who was not nursing some grievance +against master or man, and waiting for that moment of weakness in +which to revenge it.</p> +<p>With a growl of rage the circle closed in. There was an +eddy of furious, struggling men, with Lord Barrymore’s +thin, flushed face and Hooper’s bulldog jowl in the centre +of it. A moment after they were both upon the ground, and a +dozen sticks were rising and falling above them.</p> +<p><!-- page 101--><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>“Let me up! You’re killing me! +For God’s sake let me up!” cried a crackling +voice.</p> +<p>Hooper fought mute, like the bulldog he was, till his senses +were beaten out of him.</p> +<p>Bruised, kicked, and mauled, never did their worst victim come +so badly from the Gardens as the bully and his patron that +night. But worse than the ache of wounds for Lord Barrymore +was the smart of the mind as he thought how every club and +drawing-room in London would laugh for a week to come at the tale +of his Amelia and her aunt.</p> +<p>Sir Charles had stood, rocking with laughter, upon the bench +which overlooked the scene. When at last he made his way +back through the crowds to his yellow phaeton, he was not +entirely surprised to find that the back seat was already +occupied by two giggling females, who were exchanging most +unladylike repartees with the attendant grooms.</p> +<p>“You young rascals!” he remarked, over his +shoulder, as he gathered up his reins.</p> +<p>The two females tittered loudly.</p> +<p>“Uncle Charles!” cried the elder, “may I +present Mr. Jack Jarvis, of Brasenose College? I think, +uncle, you should take us somewhere to sup, for it has been a +vastly fatiguing performance. To-morrow I will do myself +the honour to call, at your convenience, and will venture to +bring with me the receipt for one thousand pounds.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 102</span>V. THE HORROR OF THE +HEIGHTS<br /> +(WHICH INCLUDES THE MANUSCRIPT KNOWN AS THE JOYCE-ARMSTRONG +FRAGMENT)</h2> +<p>The idea that the extraordinary narrative which has been +called the Joyce-Armstrong Fragment is an elaborate practical +joke evolved by some unknown person, cursed by a perverted and +sinister sense of humour, has now been abandoned by all who have +examined the matter. The most <i>macabre</i> and +imaginative of plotters would hesitate before linking his morbid +fancies with the unquestioned and tragic facts which reinforce +the statement. Though the assertions contained in it are +amazing and even monstrous, it is none the less forcing itself +upon the general intelligence that they are true, and that we +must readjust our ideas to the new situation. This world of +ours appears to be separated by a slight and precarious margin of +safety from a most singular and unexpected danger. I will +endeavour in this narrative, which reproduces the original +document in its <!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 103</span>necessarily somewhat fragmentary +form, to lay before the reader the whole of the facts up to date, +prefacing my statement by saying that, if there be any who doubt +the narrative of Joyce-Armstrong, there can be no question at all +as to the facts concerning Lieutenant Myrtle, R.N., and Mr. Hay +Connor, who undoubtedly met their end in the manner +described.</p> +<p>The Joyce-Armstrong Fragment was found in the field which is +called Lower Haycock, lying one mile to the westward of the +village of Withyham, upon the Kent and Sussex border. It +was on the fifteenth of September last that an agricultural +labourer, James Flynn, in the employment of Mathew Dodd, farmer, +of the Chauntry Farm, Withyham, perceived a briar pipe lying near +the footpath which skirts the hedge in Lower Haycock. A few +paces farther on he picked up a pair of broken binocular +glasses. Finally, among some nettles in the ditch, he +caught sight of a flat, canvas-backed book, which proved to be a +note-book with detachable leaves, some of which had come loose +and were fluttering along the base of the hedge. These he +collected, but some, including the first, were never recovered, +and leave a deplorable hiatus in this all-important +statement. The notebook was taken by the labourer to his +master, who in turn showed it to Dr. J. H. Atherton, of +Hartfield. This gentleman at once recognised <!-- page +104--><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +104</span>the need for an expert examination, and the manuscript +was forwarded to the Aero Club in London, where it now lies.</p> +<p>The first two pages of the manuscript are missing. There +is also one torn away at the end of the narrative, though none of +these affect the general coherence of the story. It is +conjectured that the missing opening is concerned with the record +of Mr. Joyce-Armstrong’s qualifications as an aeronaut, +which can be gathered from other sources and are admitted to be +unsurpassed among the air-pilots of England. For many years +he has been looked upon as among the most daring and the most +intellectual of flying men, a combination which has enabled him +to both invent and test several new devices, including the common +gyroscopic attachment which is known by his name. The main +body of the manuscript is written neatly in ink, but the last few +lines are in pencil and are so ragged as to be hardly +legible—exactly, in fact, as they might be expected to +appear if they were scribbled off hurriedly from the seat of a +moving aeroplane. There are, it may be added, several +stains, both on the last page and on the outside cover, which +have been pronounced by the Home Office experts to be +blood—probably human and certainly mammalian. The +fact that something closely resembling the organism of malaria +<!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +105</span>was discovered in this blood, and that Joyce-Armstrong +is known to have suffered from intermittent fever, is a +remarkable example of the new weapons which modern science has +placed in the hands of our detectives.</p> +<p>And now a word as to the personality of the author of this +epoch-making statement. Joyce-Armstrong, according to the +few friends who really knew something of the man, was a poet and +a dreamer, as well as a mechanic and an inventor. He was a +man of considerable wealth, much of which he had spent in the +pursuit of his aeronautical hobby. He had four private +aeroplanes in his hangars near Devizes, and is said to have made +no fewer than one hundred and seventy ascents in the course of +last year. He was a retiring man with dark moods, in which +he would avoid the society of his fellows. Captain +Dangerfield, who knew him better than any one, says that there +were times when his eccentricity threatened to develop into +something more serious. His habit of carrying a shot-gun +with him in his aeroplane was one manifestation of it.</p> +<p>Another was the morbid effect which the fall of Lieutenant +Myrtle had upon his mind. Myrtle, who was attempting the +height record, fell from an altitude of something over thirty +thousand feet. Horrible to narrate, his head was entirely +obliterated, though his body and <!-- page 106--><a +name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 106</span>limbs +preserved their configuration. At every gathering of +airmen, Joyce-Armstrong, according to Dangerfield, would ask, +with an enigmatic smile: “And where, pray, is +Myrtle’s head?”</p> +<p>On another occasion after dinner, at the mess of the Flying +School on Salisbury Plain, he started a debate as to what will be +the most permanent danger which airmen will have to +encounter. Having listened to successive opinions as to +air-pockets, faulty construction, and over-banking, he ended by +shrugging his shoulders and refusing to put forward his own +views, though he gave the impression that they differed from any +advanced by his companions.</p> +<p>It is worth remarking that after his own complete +disappearance it was found that his private affairs were arranged +with a precision which may show that he had a strong premonition +of disaster. With these essential explanations I will now +give the narrative exactly as it stands, beginning at page three +of the blood-soaked note-book:—</p> +<p>“Nevertheless, when I dined at Rheims with Coselli and +Gustav Raymond I found that neither of them was aware of any +particular danger in the higher layers of the atmosphere. I +did not actually say what was in my thoughts, but I got so near +to it that if they had any corresponding idea they could not have +failed to express it. But then they are two empty, <!-- +page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>vainglorious fellows with no thought beyond seeing +their silly names in the newspaper. It is interesting to +note that neither of them had ever been much beyond the +twenty-thousand-foot level. Of course, men have been higher +than this both in balloons and in the ascent of mountains. +It must be well above that point that the aeroplane enters the +danger zone—always presuming that my premonitions are +correct.</p> +<p>“Aeroplaning has been with us now for more than twenty +years, and one might well ask: Why should this peril be only +revealing itself in our day? The answer is obvious. +In the old days of weak engines, when a hundred horse-power Gnome +or Green was considered ample for every need, the flights were +very restricted. Now that three hundred horse-power is the +rule rather than the exception, visits to the upper layers have +become easier and more common. Some of us can remember how, +in our youth, Garros made a world-wide reputation by attaining +nineteen thousand feet, and it was considered a remarkable +achievement to fly over the Alps. Our standard now has been +immeasurably raised, and there are twenty high flights for one in +former years. Many of them have been undertaken with +impunity. The thirty-thousand-foot level has been reached +time after time with no discomfort beyond cold and asthma. +What does this prove? A visitor might descend upon this +planet a thousand times and never see a tiger. Yet tigers +exist, and if he chanced to come down into a jungle he might be +devoured. There are jungles of the <!-- page 108--><a +name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>upper air, +and there are worse things than tigers which inhabit them. +I believe in time they will map these jungles accurately +out. Even at the present moment I could name two of +them. One of them lies over the Pau-Biarritz district of +France. Another is just over my head as I write here in my +house in Wiltshire. I rather think there is a third in the +Homburg-Wiesbaden district.</p> +<p>“It was the disappearance of the airmen that first set +me thinking. Of course, every one said that they had fallen +into the sea, but that did not satisfy me at all. First, +there was Verrier in France; his machine was found near Bayonne, +but they never got his body. There was the case of Baxter +also, who vanished, though his engine and some of the iron +fixings were found in a wood in Leicestershire. In that +case, Dr. Middleton, of Amesbury, who was watching the flight +with a telescope, declares that just before the clouds obscured +the view he saw the machine, which was at an enormous height, +suddenly rise perpendicularly upwards in a succession of jerks in +a manner that he would have thought to be impossible. That +was the last seen of Baxter. There was a correspondence in +the papers, but it never led to anything. There were +several other similar cases, and then there was the death of Hay +Connor. What a cackle there was about an unsolved mystery +of the air, and what columns in the halfpenny papers, and yet how +little was ever done to get to the bottom of the business! +He came down in a tremendous vol-plané from <!-- page +109--><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>an +unknown height. He never got off his machine and died in +his pilot’s seat. Died of what? ‘Heart +disease,’ said the doctors. Rubbish! Hay +Connor’s heart was as sound as mine is. What did +Venables say? Venables was the only man who was at his side +when he died. He said that he was shivering and looked like +a man who had been badly scared. ‘Died of +fright,’ said Venables, but could not imagine what he was +frightened about. Only said one word to Venables, which +sounded like ‘Monstrous.’ They could make +nothing of that at the inquest. But I could make something +of it. Monsters! That was the last word of poor Harry +Hay Connor. And he <i>did</i> die of fright, just as +Venables thought.</p> +<p>“And then there was Myrtle’s head. Do you +really believe—does anybody really believe—that a +man’s head could be driven clean into his body by the force +of a fall? Well, perhaps it may be possible, but I, for +one, have never believed that it was so with Myrtle. And +the grease upon his clothes—‘all slimy with +grease,’ said somebody at the inquest. Queer that +nobody got thinking after that! I did—but, then, I +had been thinking for a good long time. I’ve made +three ascents—how Dangerfield used to chaff me about my +shot-gun!—but I’ve never been high enough. Now, +with this new light Paul Veroner machine and its one hundred and +seventy-five Robur, I should easily touch the thirty thousand +to-morrow. I’ll have a shot at the record. +Maybe I shall have a shot at something else as well. Of +course, it’s <!-- page 110--><a name="page110"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 110</span>dangerous. If a fellow wants +to avoid danger he had best keep out of flying altogether and +subside finally into flannel slippers and a dressing-gown. +But I’ll visit the air-jungle to-morrow—and if +there’s anything there I shall know it. If I return, +I’ll find myself a bit of a celebrity. If I +don’t, this note-book may explain what I am trying to do, +and how I lost my life in doing it. But no drivel about +accidents or mysteries, if <i>you</i> please.</p> +<p>“I chose my Paul Veroner monoplane for the job. +There’s nothing like a monoplane when real work is to be +done. Beaumont found that out in very early days. For +one thing, it doesn’t mind damp, and the weather looks as +if we should be in the clouds all the time. It’s a +bonny little model and answers my hand like a tender-mouthed +horse. The engine is a ten-cylinder rotary Robur working up +to one hundred and seventy-five. It has all the modern +improvements—enclosed fuselage, high-curved landing skids, +brakes, gyroscopic steadiers, and three speeds, worked by an +alteration of the angle of the planes upon the Venetian-blind +principle. I took a shot-gun with me and a dozen cartridges +filled with buck-shot. You should have seen the face of +Perkins, my old mechanic, when I directed him to put them +in. I was dressed like an Arctic explorer, with two jerseys +under my overalls, thick socks inside my padded boots, a +storm-cap with flaps, and my talc goggles. It was stifling +outside the hangars, but I was going for the summit of the +Himalayas, and had to dress for the part. <!-- page +111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +111</span>Perkins knew there was something on and implored me to +take him with me. Perhaps I should if I were using the +biplane, but a monoplane is a one-man show—if you want to +get the last foot of lift out of it. Of course, I took an +oxygen bag; the man who goes for the altitude record without one +will either be frozen or smothered—or both.</p> +<p>“I had a good look at the planes, the rudder-bar, and +the elevating lever before I got in. Everything was in +order so far as I could see. Then I switched on my engine +and found that she was running sweetly. When they let her +go she rose almost at once upon the lowest speed. I circled +my home field once or twice just to warm her up, and then, with a +wave to Perkins and the others, I flattened out my planes and put +her on her highest. She skimmed like a swallow down wind +for eight or ten miles until I turned her nose up a little and +she began to climb in a great spiral for the cloud-bank above +me. It’s all-important to rise slowly and adapt +yourself to the pressure as you go.</p> +<p>“It was a close, warm day for an English September, and +there was the hush and heaviness of impending rain. Now and +then there came sudden puffs of wind from the +south-west—one of them so gusty and unexpected that it +caught me napping and turned me half-round for an instant. +I remember the time when gusts and whirls and air-pockets used to +be things of danger—before we learned to put an +overmastering power into our engines. Just as I reached the +cloud-banks, with the altimeter <!-- page 112--><a +name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>marking +three thousand, down came the rain. My word, how it +poured! It drummed upon my wings and lashed against my +face, blurring my glasses so that I could hardly see. I got +down on to a low speed, for it was painful to travel against +it. As I got higher it became hail, and I had to turn tail +to it. One of my cylinders was out of action—a dirty +plug, I should imagine, but still I was rising steadily with +plenty of power. After a bit the trouble passed, whatever +it was, and I heard the full, deep-throated purr—the ten +singing as one. That’s where the beauty of our modern +silencers comes in. We can at last control our engines by +ear. How they squeal and squeak and sob when they are in +trouble! All those cries for help were wasted in the old +days, when every sound was swallowed up by the monstrous racket +of the machine. If only the early aviators could come back +to see the beauty and perfection of the mechanism which have been +bought at the cost of their lives!</p> +<p>“About nine-thirty I was nearing the clouds. Down +below me, all blurred and shadowed with rain, lay the vast +expanse of Salisbury Plain. Half-a-dozen flying machines +were doing hackwork at the thousand-foot level, looking like +little black swallows against the green background. I dare +say they were wondering what I was doing up in cloud-land. +Suddenly a grey curtain drew across beneath me and the wet folds +of vapour were swirling round my face. It was clammily cold +and miserable. But I was above the hail-storm, and that was +something <!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 113</span>gained. The cloud was as dark +and thick as a London fog. In my anxiety to get clear, I +cocked her nose up until the automatic alarm-bell rang, and I +actually began to slide backwards. My sopped and dripping +wings had made me heavier than I thought, but presently I was in +lighter cloud, and soon had cleared the first layer. There +was a second—opal-coloured and fleecy—at a great +height above my head, a white unbroken ceiling above, and a dark +unbroken floor below, with the monoplane labouring upwards upon a +vast spiral between them. It is deadly lonely in these +cloud-spaces. Once a great flight of some small water-birds +went past me, flying very fast to the westwards. The quick +whirr of their wings and their musical cry were cheery to my +ear. I fancy that they were teal, but I am a wretched +zoologist. Now that we humans have become birds we must +really learn to know our brethren by sight.</p> +<p>“The wind down beneath me whirled and swayed the broad +cloud-plain. Once a great eddy formed in it, a whirlpool of +vapour, and through it, as down a funnel, I caught sight of the +distant world. A large white biplane was passing at a vast +depth beneath me. I fancy it was the morning mail service +betwixt Bristol and London. Then the drift swirled inwards +again and the great solitude was unbroken.</p> +<p>“Just after ten I touched the lower edge of the upper +cloud-stratum. It consisted of fine diaphanous vapour +drifting swiftly from the westward. The wind had been +steadily rising <!-- page 114--><a name="page114"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 114</span>all this time and it was now blowing +a sharp breeze—twenty-eight an hour by my gauge. +Already it was very cold, though my altimeter only marked nine +thousand. The engines were working beautifully, and we went +droning steadily upwards. The cloud-bank was thicker than I +had expected, but at last it thinned out into a golden mist +before me, and then in an instant I had shot out from it, and +there was an unclouded sky and a brilliant sun above my +head—all blue and gold above, all shining silver below, one +vast glimmering plain as far as my eyes could reach. It was +a quarter past ten o’clock, and the barograph needle +pointed to twelve thousand eight hundred. Up I went and up, +my ears concentrated upon the deep purring of my motor, my eyes +busy always with the watch, the revolution indicator, the petrol +lever, and the oil pump. No wonder aviators are said to be +a fearless race. With so many things to think of there is +no time to trouble about oneself. About this time I noted +how unreliable is the compass when above a certain height from +earth. At fifteen thousand feet mine was pointing east and +a point south. The sun and the wind gave me my true +bearings.</p> +<p>“I had hoped to reach an eternal stillness in these high +altitudes, but with every thousand feet of ascent the gale grew +stronger. My machine groaned and trembled in every joint +and rivet as she faced it, and swept away like a sheet of paper +when I banked her on the turn, skimming down wind at a greater +pace, perhaps, than ever mortal man has moved. Yet I had +<!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>always to turn again and tack up in the wind’s +eye, for it was not merely a height record that I was +after. By all my calculations it was above little Wiltshire +that my air-jungle lay, and all my labour might be lost if I +struck the outer layers at some farther point.</p> +<p>“When I reached the nineteen-thousand-foot level, which +was about midday, the wind was so severe that I looked with some +anxiety to the stays of my wings, expecting momentarily to see +them snap or slacken. I even cast loose the parachute +behind me, and fastened its hook into the ring of my leathern +belt, so as to be ready for the worst. Now was the time +when a bit of scamped work by the mechanic is paid for by the +life of the aeronaut. But she held together bravely. +Every cord and strut was humming and vibrating like so many +harp-strings, but it was glorious to see how, for all the beating +and the buffeting, she was still the conqueror of Nature and the +mistress of the sky. There is surely something divine in +man himself that he should rise so superior to the limitations +which Creation seemed to impose—rise, too, by such +unselfish, heroic devotion as this air-conquest has shown. +Talk of human degeneration! When has such a story as this +been written in the annals of our race?</p> +<p>“These were the thoughts in my head as I climbed that +monstrous inclined plane with the wind sometimes beating in my +face and sometimes whistling behind my ears, while the cloud-land +beneath me fell away to such a distance that the folds and +hummocks of silver had <!-- page 116--><a +name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 116</span>all +smoothed out into one flat, shining plain. But suddenly I +had a horrible and unprecedented experience. I have known +before what it is to be in what our neighbours have called a +<i>tourbillon</i>, but never on such a scale as this. That +huge, sweeping river of wind of which I have spoken had, as it +appears, whirlpools within it which were as monstrous as +itself. Without a moment’s warning I was dragged +suddenly into the heart of one. I spun round for a minute +or two with such velocity that I almost lost my senses, and then +fell suddenly, left wing foremost, down the vacuum funnel in the +centre. I dropped like a stone, and lost nearly a thousand +feet. It was only my belt that kept me in my seat, and the +shock and breathlessness left me hanging half-insensible over the +side of the fuselage. But I am always capable of a supreme +effort—it is my one great merit as an aviator. I was +conscious that the descent was slower. The whirlpool was a +cone rather than a funnel, and I had come to the apex. With +a terrific wrench, throwing my weight all to one side, I levelled +my planes and brought her head away from the wind. In an +instant I had shot out of the eddies and was skimming down the +sky. Then, shaken but victorious, I turned her nose up and +began once more my steady grind on the upward spiral. I +took a large sweep to avoid the danger-spot of the whirlpool, and +soon I was safely above it. Just after one o’clock I +was twenty-one thousand feet above the sea-level. To my +great joy I had topped the gale, and with every hundred feet of +ascent the air grew stiller. <!-- page 117--><a +name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>On the +other hand, it was very cold, and I was conscious of that +peculiar nausea which goes with rarefaction of the air. For +the first time I unscrewed the mouth of my oxygen bag and took an +occasional whiff of the glorious gas. I could feel it +running like a cordial through my veins, and I was exhilarated +almost to the point of drunkenness. I shouted and sang as I +soared upwards into the cold, still outer world.</p> +<p>“It is very clear to me that the insensibility which +came upon Glaisher, and in a lesser degree upon Coxwell, when, in +1862, they ascended in a balloon to the height of thirty thousand +feet, was due to the extreme speed with which a perpendicular +ascent is made. Doing it at an easy gradient and +accustoming oneself to the lessened barometric pressure by slow +degrees, there are no such dreadful symptoms. At the same +great height I found that even without my oxygen inhaler I could +breathe without undue distress. It was bitterly cold, +however, and my thermometer was at zero Fahrenheit. At +one-thirty I was nearly seven miles above the surface of the +earth, and still ascending steadily. I found, however, that +the rarefied air was giving markedly less support to my planes, +and that my angle of ascent had to be considerably lowered in +consequence. It was already clear that even with my light +weight and strong engine-power there was a point in front of me +where I should be held. To make matters worse, one of my +sparking-plugs was in trouble again and there was intermittent +<!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>missfiring in the engine. My heart was heavy with +the fear of failure.</p> +<p>“It was about that time that I had a most extraordinary +experience. Something whizzed past me in a trail of smoke +and exploded with a loud, hissing sound, sending forth a cloud of +steam. For the instant I could not imagine what had +happened. Then I remembered that the earth is for ever +being bombarded by meteor stones, and would be hardly inhabitable +were they not in nearly every case turned to vapour in the outer +layers of the atmosphere. Here is a new danger for the +high-altitude man, for two others passed me when I was nearing +the forty-thousand-foot mark. I cannot doubt that at the +edge of the earth’s envelope the risk would be a very real +one.</p> +<p>“My barograph needle marked forty-one thousand three +hundred when I became aware that I could go no farther. +Physically, the strain was not as yet greater than I could bear, +but my machine had reached its limit. The attenuated air +gave no firm support to the wings, and the least tilt developed +into side-slip, while she seemed sluggish on her controls. +Possibly, had the engine been at its best, another thousand feet +might have been within our capacity, but it was still missfiring, +and two out of the ten cylinders appeared to be out of +action. If I had not already reached the zone for which I +was searching then I should never see it upon this journey. +But was it not possible that I had attained it? Soaring in +circles like a monstrous hawk upon the forty-thousand-foot level +<!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>I let the monoplane guide herself, and with my Mannheim +glass I made a careful observation of my surroundings. The +heavens were perfectly clear; there was no indication of those +dangers which I had imagined.</p> +<p>“I have said that I was soaring in circles. It +struck me suddenly that I would do well to take a wider sweep and +open up a new air-tract. If the hunter entered an +earth-jungle he would drive through it if he wished to find his +game. My reasoning had led me to believe that the +air-jungle which I had imagined lay somewhere over +Wiltshire. This should be to the south and west of +me. I took my bearings from the sun, for the compass was +hopeless and no trace of earth was to be seen—nothing but +the distant silver cloud-plain. However, I got my direction +as best I might and kept her head straight to the mark. I +reckoned that my petrol supply would not last for more than +another hour or so, but I could afford to use it to the last +drop, since a single magnificent vol-plané could at any +time take me to the earth.</p> +<p>“Suddenly I was aware of something new. The air in +front of me had lost its crystal clearness. It was full of +long, ragged wisps of something which I can only compare to very +fine cigarette-smoke. It hung about in wreaths and coils, +turning and twisting slowly in the sunlight. As the +monoplane shot through it, I was aware of a faint taste of oil +upon my lips, and there was a greasy scum upon the woodwork of +the machine. Some infinitely fine organic matter appeared +to be suspended in the <!-- page 120--><a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +120</span>atmosphere. There was no life there. It was +inchoate and diffuse, extending for many square acres and then +fringing off into the void. No, it was not life. But +might it not be the remains of life? Above all, might it +not be the food of life, of monstrous life, even as the humble +grease of the ocean is the food for the mighty whale? The +thought was in my mind when my eyes looked upwards and I saw the +most wonderful vision that ever man has seen. Can I hope to +convey it to you even as I saw it myself last Thursday?</p> +<p>“Conceive a jelly-fish such as sails in our summer seas, +bell-shaped and of enormous size—far larger, I should +judge, than the dome of St. Paul’s. It was of a light +pink colour veined with a delicate green, but the whole huge +fabric so tenuous that it was but a fairy outline against the +dark blue sky. It pulsated with a delicate and regular +rhythm. From it there depended two long, drooping green +tentacles, which swayed slowly backwards and forwards. This +gorgeous vision passed gently with noiseless dignity over my +head, as light and fragile as a soap-bubble, and drifted upon its +stately way.</p> +<p>“I had half-turned my monoplane, that I might look after +this beautiful creature, when, in a moment, I found myself amidst +a perfect fleet of them, of all sizes, but none so large as the +first. Some were quite small, but the majority about as big +as an average balloon, and with much the same curvature at the +top. There was in them a delicacy of texture and colouring +which reminded me of the finest <!-- page 121--><a +name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>Venetian +glass. Pale shades of pink and green were the prevailing +tints, but all had a lovely iridescence where the sun shimmered +through their dainty forms. Some hundreds of them drifted +past me, a wonderful fairy squadron of strange, unknown argosies +of the sky—creatures whose forms and substance were so +attuned to these pure heights that one could not conceive +anything so delicate within actual sight or sound of earth.</p> +<p>“But soon my attention was drawn to a new +phenomenon—the serpents of the outer air. These were +long, thin, fantastic coils of vapour-like material, which turned +and twisted with great speed, flying round and round at such a +pace that the eyes could hardly follow them. Some of these +ghost-like creatures were twenty or thirty feet long, but it was +difficult to tell their girth, for their outline was so hazy that +it seemed to fade away into the air around them. These +air-snakes were of a very light grey or smoke colour, with some +darker lines within, which gave the impression of a definite +organism. One of them whisked past my very face, and I was +conscious of a cold, clammy contact, but their composition was so +unsubstantial that I could not connect them with any thought of +physical danger, any more than the beautiful bell-like creatures +which had preceded them. There was no more solidity in +their frames than in the floating spume from a broken wave.</p> +<p>“But a more terrible experience was in store for +me. Floating downwards from a great height there came a +purplish patch of vapour, <!-- page 122--><a +name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>small as I +saw it first, but rapidly enlarging as it approached me, until it +appeared to be hundreds of square feet in size. Though +fashioned of some transparent, jelly-like substance, it was none +the less of much more definite outline and solid consistence than +anything which I had seen before. There were more traces, +too, of a physical organization, especially two vast shadowy, +circular plates upon either side, which may have been eyes, and a +perfectly solid white projection between them which was as curved +and cruel as the beak of a vulture.</p> +<p>“The whole aspect of this monster was formidable and +threatening, and it kept changing its colour from a very light +mauve to a dark, angry purple so thick that it cast a shadow as +it drifted between my monoplane and the sun. On the upper +curve of its huge body there were three great projections which I +can only describe as enormous bubbles, and I was convinced as I +looked at them that they were charged with some extremely light +gas which served to buoy-up the misshapen and semi-solid mass in +the rarefied air. The creature moved swiftly along, keeping +pace easily with the monoplane, and for twenty miles or more it +formed my horrible escort, hovering over me like a bird of prey +which is waiting to pounce. Its method of +progression—done so swiftly that it was not easy to +follow—was to throw out a long, glutinous streamer in front +of it, which in turn seemed to draw forward the rest of the +writhing body. So elastic and gelatinous was it that never +for two successive minutes was it the same shape, <!-- page +123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>and yet each change made it more threatening and +loathsome than the last.</p> +<p>“I knew that it meant mischief. Every purple flush +of its hideous body told me so. The vague, goggling eyes +which were turned always upon me were cold and merciless in their +viscid hatred. I dipped the nose of my monoplane downwards +to escape it. As I did so, as quick as a flash there shot +out a long tentacle from this mass of floating blubber, and it +fell as light and sinuous as a whip-lash across the front of my +machine. There was a loud hiss as it lay for a moment +across the hot engine, and it whisked itself into the air again, +while the huge flat body drew itself together as if in sudden +pain. I dipped to a vol-piqué, but again a tentacle +fell over the monoplane and was shorn off by the propeller as +easily as it might have cut through a smoke wreath. A long, +gliding, sticky, serpent-like coil came from behind and caught me +round the waist, dragging me out of the fuselage. I tore at +it, my fingers sinking into the smooth, glue-like surface, and +for an instant I disengaged myself, but only to be caught round +the boot by another coil, which gave me a jerk that tilted me +almost on to my back.</p> +<p>“As I fell over I blazed off both barrels of my gun, +though, indeed, it was like attacking an elephant with a +pea-shooter to imagine that any human weapon could cripple that +mighty bulk. And yet I aimed better than I knew, for, with +a loud report, one of the great blisters upon the +creature’s back exploded with <!-- page 124--><a +name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>the +puncture of the buck-shot. It was very clear that my +conjecture was right, and that these vast clear bladders were +distended with some lifting gas, for in an instant the huge +cloud-like body turned sideways, writhing desperately to find its +balance, while the white beak snapped and gaped in horrible +fury. But already I had shot away on the steepest glide +that I dared to attempt, my engine still full on, the flying +propeller and the force of gravity shooting me downwards like an +aerolite. Far behind me I saw a dull, purplish smudge +growing swiftly smaller and merging into the blue sky behind +it. I was safe out of the deadly jungle of the outer +air.</p> +<p>“Once out of danger I throttled my engine, for nothing +tears a machine to pieces quicker than running on full power from +a height. It was a glorious spiral vol-plané from +nearly eight miles of altitude—first, to the level of the +silver cloud-bank, then to that of the storm-cloud beneath it, +and finally, in beating rain, to the surface of the earth. +I saw the Bristol Channel beneath me as I broke from the clouds, +but, having still some petrol in my tank, I got twenty miles +inland before I found myself stranded in a field half a mile from +the village of Ashcombe. There I got three tins of petrol +from a passing motor-car, and at ten minutes past six that +evening I alighted gently in my own home meadow at Devizes, after +such a journey as no mortal upon earth has ever yet taken and +lived to tell the tale. I have seen the beauty and I have +seen the horror of the <!-- page 125--><a +name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>heights—and greater beauty or greater horror than +that is not within the ken of man.</p> +<p>“And now it is my plan to go once again before I give my +results to the world. My reason for this is that I must +surely have something to show by way of proof before I lay such a +tale before my fellow-men. It is true that others will soon +follow and will confirm what I have said, and yet I should wish +to carry conviction from the first. Those lovely iridescent +bubbles of the air should not be hard to capture. They +drift slowly upon their way, and the swift monoplane could +intercept their leisurely course. It is likely enough that +they would dissolve in the heavier layers of the atmosphere, and +that some small heap of amorphous jelly might be all that I +should bring to earth with me. And yet something there +would surely be by which I could substantiate my story. +Yes, I will go, even if I run a risk by doing so. These +purple horrors would not seem to be numerous. It is +probable that I shall not see one. If I do I shall dive at +once. At the worst there is always the shot-gun and my +knowledge of . . .”</p> +<p>Here a page of the manuscript is unfortunately missing. +On the next page is written, in large, straggling +writing:—</p> +<p>“Forty-three thousand feet. I shall never see +earth again. They are beneath me, three of them. God +help me; it is a dreadful death to die!”</p> +<p><!-- page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>Such in its entirety is the Joyce-Armstrong +Statement. Of the man nothing has since been seen. +Pieces of his shattered monoplane have been picked up in the +preserves of Mr. Budd-Lushington upon the borders of Kent and +Sussex, within a few miles of the spot where the note-book was +discovered. If the unfortunate aviator’s theory is +correct that this air-jungle, as he called it, existed only over +the south-west of England, then it would seem that he had fled +from it at the full speed of his monoplane, but had been +overtaken and devoured by these horrible creatures at some spot +in the outer atmosphere above the place where the grim relics +were found. The picture of that monoplane skimming down the +sky, with the nameless terrors flying as swiftly beneath it and +cutting it off always from the earth while they gradually closed +in upon their victim, is one upon which a man who valued his +sanity would prefer not to dwell. There are many, as I am +aware, who still jeer at the facts which I have here set down, +but even they must admit that Joyce-Armstrong has disappeared, +and I would commend to them his own words: “This note-book +may explain what I am trying to do, and how I lost my life in +doing it. But no drivel about accidents or mysteries, if +<i>you</i> please.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 127</span>VI. BORROWED SCENES</h2> +<blockquote><p>“It cannot be done. People really +would not stand it. I know because I have +tried.”—<i>Extract from an unpublished paper upon +George Borrow and his writings</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Yes, I tried and my experience may interest other +people. You must imagine, then, that I am soaked in George +Borrow, especially in his <i>Lavengro</i> and his <i>Romany +Rye</i>, that I have modelled both my thoughts, my speech and my +style very carefully upon those of the master, and that finally I +set forth one summer day actually to lead the life of which I had +read. Behold me, then, upon the country road which leads +from the railway-station to the Sussex village of Swinehurst.</p> +<p>As I walked, I entertained myself by recollections of the +founders of Sussex, of Cerdic that mighty sea-rover, and of Ella +his son, said by the bard to be taller by the length of a +spear-head than the tallest of his fellows. I mentioned the +matter twice to peasants whom I met upon the road. One, a +tallish man with a freckled face, sidled past me and ran swiftly +towards the <!-- page 128--><a name="page128"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 128</span>station. The other, a smaller +and older man, stood entranced while I recited to him that +passage of the Saxon Chronicle which begins, “Then came +Leija with longships forty-four, and the fyrd went out against +him.” I was pointing out to him that the Chronicle +had been written partly by the monks of Saint Albans and +afterwards by those of Peterborough, but the fellow sprang +suddenly over a gate and disappeared.</p> +<p>The village of Swinehurst is a straggling line of +half-timbered houses of the early English pattern. One of +these houses stood, as I observed, somewhat taller than the rest, +and seeing by its appearance and by the sign which hung before it +that it was the village inn, I approached it, for indeed I had +not broken my fast since I had left London. A stoutish man, +five foot eight perhaps in height, with black coat and trousers +of a greyish shade, stood outside, and to him I talked in the +fashion of the master.</p> +<p>“Why a rose and why a crown?” I asked as I pointed +upwards.</p> +<p>He looked at me in a strange manner. The man’s +whole appearance was strange. “Why not?” he +answered, and shrank a little backwards.</p> +<p>“The sign of a king,” said I.</p> +<p>“Surely,” said he. “What else should +we understand from a crown?”</p> +<p><!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +129</span>“And which king?” I asked.</p> +<p>“You will excuse me,” said he, and tried to +pass.</p> +<p>“Which king?” I repeated.</p> +<p>“How should I know?” he asked.</p> +<p>“You should know by the rose,” said I, +“which is the symbol of that Tudor-ap-Tudor, who, coming +from the mountains of Wales, yet seated his posterity upon the +English throne. Tudor,” I continued, getting between +the stranger and the door of the inn, through which he appeared +to be desirous of passing, “was of the same blood as Owen +Glendower, the famous chieftain, who is by no means to be +confused with Owen Gwynedd, the father of Madoc of the Sea, of +whom the bard made the famous cnylyn, which runs in the Welsh as +follows:—”</p> +<p>I was about to repeat the famous stanza of Dafydd-ap-Gwilyn +when the man, who had looked very fixedly and strangely at me as +I spoke, pushed past me and entered the inn. +“Truly,” said I aloud, “it is surely Swinehurst +to which I have come, since the same means the grove of the +hogs.” So saying I followed the fellow into the bar +parlour, where I perceived him seated in a corner with a large +chair in front of him. Four persons of various degrees were +drinking beer at a central table, whilst a small man of active +build, in a black, shiny suit, which seemed to have seen much +service, stood <!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 130</span>before the empty fireplace. +Him I took to be the landlord, and I asked him what I should have +for my dinner.</p> +<p>He smiled, and said that he could not tell.</p> +<p>“But surely, my friend,” said I, “you can +tell me what is ready?”</p> +<p>“Even that I cannot do,” he answered; “but I +doubt not that the landlord can inform us.” On this +he rang the bell, and a fellow answered, to whom I put the same +question.</p> +<p>“What would you have?” he asked.</p> +<p>I thought of the master, and I ordered a cold leg of pork to +be washed down with tea and beer.</p> +<p>“Did you say tea <i>and</i> beer?” asked the +landlord.</p> +<p>“I did.”</p> +<p>“For twenty-five years have I been in business,” +said the landlord, “and never before have I been asked for +tea and beer.”</p> +<p>“The gentleman is joking,” said the man with the +shining coat.</p> +<p>“Or else—” said the elderly man in the +corner.</p> +<p>“Or what, sir?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” said +he—“nothing.” There was something very +strange in this man in the corner—him to whom I had spoken +of Dafydd-ap-Gwilyn.</p> +<p>“Then you are joking,” said the landlord.</p> +<p>I asked him if he had read the works of my <!-- page 131--><a +name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>master, +George Borrow. He said that he had not. I told him +that in those five volumes he would not, from cover to cover, +find one trace of any sort of a joke. He would also find +that my master drank tea and beer together. Now it happens +that about tea I have read nothing either in the sagas or in the +bardic cnylynions, but, whilst the landlord had departed to +prepare my meal, I recited to the company those Icelandic stanzas +which praise the beer of Gunnar, the long-haired son of Harold +the Bear. Then, lest the language should be unknown to some +of them, I recited my own translation, ending with the +line—</p> +<blockquote><p>If the beer be small, then let the mug be +large.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I then asked the company whether they went to church or to +chapel. The question surprised them, and especially the +strange man in the corner, upon whom I now fixed my eye. I +had read his secret, and as I looked at him he tried to shrink +behind the clock-case.</p> +<p>“The church or the chapel?” I asked him.</p> +<p>“The church,” he gasped.</p> +<p>“<i>Which</i> church?” I asked.</p> +<p>He shrank farther behind the clock. “I have never +been so questioned,” he cried.</p> +<p>I showed him that I knew his secret, “Rome was not built +in a day,” said I.</p> +<p><!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>“He! He!” he cried. Then, as I turned +away, he put his head from behind the clock-case and tapped his +forehead with his forefinger. So also did the man with the +shiny coat, who stood before the empty fireplace.</p> +<p>Having eaten the cold leg of pork—where is there a +better dish, save only boiled mutton with capers?—and +having drunk both the tea and the beer, I told the company that +such a meal had been called “to box Harry” by the +master, who had observed it to be in great favour with commercial +gentlemen out of Liverpool. With this information and a +stanza or two from Lopez de Vega I left the Inn of the Rose and +Crown behind me, having first paid my reckoning. At the +door the landlord asked me for my name and address.</p> +<p>“And why?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Lest there should be inquiry for you,” said the +landlord.</p> +<p>“But why should they inquire for me?”</p> +<p>“Ah, who knows?” said the landlord, musing. +And so I left him at the door of the Inn of the Rose and Crown, +whence came, I observed, a great tumult of laughter. +“Assuredly,” thought I, “Rome was not built in +a day.”</p> +<p>Having walked down the main street of Swinehurst, which, as I +have observed, consists of half-timbered buildings in the ancient +style, I came out upon the country road, and proceeded <!-- page +133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>to +look for those wayside adventures, which are, according to the +master, as thick as blackberries for those who seek them upon an +English highway. I had already received some boxing lessons +before leaving London, so it seemed to me that if I should chance +to meet some traveller whose size and age seemed such as to +encourage the venture I would ask him to strip off his coat and +settle any differences which we could find in the old English +fashion. I waited, therefore, by a stile for any one who +should chance to pass, and it was while I stood there that the +screaming horror came upon me, even as it came upon the master in +the dingle. I gripped the bar of the stile, which was of +good British oak. Oh, who can tell the terrors of the +screaming horror! That was what I thought as I grasped the +oaken bar of the stile. Was it the beer—or was it the +tea? Or was it that the landlord was right and that other, +the man with the black, shiny coat, he who had answered the sign +of the strange man in the corner? But the master drank tea +with beer. Yes, but the master also had the screaming +horror. All this I thought as I grasped the bar of British +oak, which was the top of the stile. For half an hour the +horror was upon me. Then it passed, and I was left feeling +very weak and still grasping the oaken bar.</p> +<p>I had not moved from the stile, where I had <!-- page 134--><a +name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>been seized +by the screaming horror, when I heard the sound of steps behind +me, and turning round I perceived that a pathway led across the +field upon the farther side of the stile. A woman was +coming towards me along this pathway, and it was evident to me +that she was one of those gipsy Rias, of whom the master has said +so much. Looking beyond her, I could see the smoke of a +fire from a small dingle, which showed where her tribe were +camping. The woman herself was of a moderate height, +neither tall nor short, with a face which was much sunburned and +freckled. I must confess that she was not beautiful, but I +do not think that anyone, save the master, has found very +beautiful women walking about upon the high-roads of +England. Such as she was I must make the best of her, and +well I knew how to address her, for many times had I admired the +mixture of politeness and audacity which should be used in such a +case. Therefore, when the woman had come to the stile, I +held out my hand and helped her over.</p> +<p>“What says the Spanish poet Calderon?” said +I. “I doubt not that you have read the couplet which +has been thus Englished:</p> +<blockquote><p>Oh, maiden, may I humbly pray<br /> +That I may help you on your way.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The woman blushed, but said nothing.</p> +<p><!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>“Where,” I asked, “are the Romany +chals and the Romany chis?”</p> +<p>She turned her head away and was silent.</p> +<p>“Though I am a gorgio,” said I, “I know +something of the Romany lil,” and to prove it I sang the +stanza—</p> +<blockquote><p>Coliko, coliko saulo wer<br /> +Apopli to the farming ker<br /> +Will wel and mang him mullo,<br /> +Will wel and mang his truppo.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The girl laughed, but said nothing. It appeared to me +from her appearance that she might be one of those who make a +living at telling fortunes or “dukkering,” as the +master calls it, at racecourses and other gatherings of the +sort.</p> +<p>“Do you dukker?” I asked.</p> +<p>She slapped me on the arm. “Well, you <i>are</i> a +pot of ginger!” said she.</p> +<p>I was pleased at the slap, for it put me in mind of the +peerless Belle. “You can use Long Melford,” +said I, an expression which, with the master, meant fighting.</p> +<p>“Get along with your sauce!” said she, and struck +me again.</p> +<p>“You are a very fine young woman,” said I, +“and remind me of Grunelda, the daughter of Hjalmar, who +stole the golden bowl from the King of the Islands.”</p> +<p><!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>She seemed annoyed at this. “You keep a +civil tongue, young man,” said she.</p> +<p>“I meant no harm, Belle. I was but comparing you +to one of whom the saga says her eyes were like the shine of sun +upon icebergs.”</p> +<p>This seemed to please her, for she smiled. “My +name ain’t Belle,” she said at last.</p> +<p>“What is your name?”</p> +<p>“Henrietta.”</p> +<p>“The name of a queen,” I said aloud.</p> +<p>“Go on,” said the girl.</p> +<p>“Of Charles’s queen,” said I, “of whom +Waller the poet (for the English also have their poets, though in +this respect far inferior to the Basques)—of whom, I say, +Waller the poet said:</p> +<blockquote><p>That she was Queen was the Creator’s act,<br +/> +Belated man could but endorse the fact.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“I say!” cried the girl. “How you do +go on!”</p> +<p>“So now,” said I, “since I have shown you +that you are a queen you will surely give me a +choomer”—this being a kiss in Romany talk.</p> +<p>“I’ll give you one on the ear-hole,” she +cried.</p> +<p>“Then I will wrestle with you,” said I. +“If you should chance to put me down, I will do penance by +teaching you the Armenian alphabet—the very word alphabet, +as you will perceive, shows us that our letters came from <!-- +page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>Greece. If, on the other hand, I should chance to +put you down, you will give me a choomer.”</p> +<p>I had got so far, and she was climbing the stile with some +pretence of getting away from me, when there came a van along the +road, belonging, as I discovered, to a baker in Swinehurst. +The horse, which was of a brown colour, was such as is bred in +the New Forest, being somewhat under fifteen hands and of a +hairy, ill-kempt variety. As I know less than the master +about horses, I will say no more of this horse, save to repeat +that its colour was brown—nor indeed had the horse or the +horse’s colour anything to do with my narrative. I +might add, however, that it could either be taken as a small +horse or as a large pony, being somewhat tall for the one, but +undersized for the other. I have now said enough about this +horse, which has nothing to do with my story, and I will turn my +attention to the driver.</p> +<p>This was a man with a broad, florid face and brown +side-whiskers. He was of a stout build and had rounded +shoulders, with a small mole of a reddish colour over his left +eyebrow. His jacket was of velveteen, and he had large, +iron-shod boots, which were perched upon the splashboard in front +of him. He pulled up the van as he came up to the stile +near which I was standing with the maiden who had come from the +dingle, and in a civil fashion he asked me if <!-- page 138--><a +name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>I could +oblige him with a light for his pipe. Then, as I drew a +matchbox from my pocket, he threw his reins over the splashboard, +and removing his large, iron-shod boots he descended on to the +road. He was a burly man, but inclined to fat and scant of +breath. It seemed to me that it was a chance for one of +those wayside boxing adventures which were so common in the olden +times. It was my intention that I should fight the man, and +that the maiden from the dingle standing by me should tell me +when to use my right or my left, as the case might be, picking me +up also in case I should be so unfortunate as to be knocked down +by the man with the iron-shod boots and the small mole of a +reddish colour over his left eyebrow.</p> +<p>“Do you use Long Melford?” I asked.</p> +<p>He looked at me in some surprise, and said that any mixture +was good enough for him.</p> +<p>“By Long Melford,” said I, “I do not mean, +as you seem to think, some form of tobacco, but I mean that art +and science of boxing which was held in such high esteem by our +ancestors, that some famous professors of it, such as the great +Gully, have been elected to the highest offices of the +State. There were men of the highest character amongst the +bruisers of England, of whom I would particularly mention Tom of +Hereford, better known as Tom Spring, <!-- page 139--><a +name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 139</span>though his +father’s name, as I have been given to understand, was +Winter. This, however, has nothing to do with the matter in +hand, which is that you must fight me.”</p> +<p>The man with the florid face seemed very much surprised at my +words, so that I cannot think that adventures of this sort were +as common as I had been led by the master to expect.</p> +<p>“Fight!” said he. “What +about?”</p> +<p>“It is a good old English custom,” said I, +“by which we may determine which is the better +man.”</p> +<p>“I’ve nothing against you,” said he.</p> +<p>“Nor I against you,” I answered. “So +that we will fight for love, which was an expression much used in +olden days. It is narrated by Harold Sygvynson that among +the Danes it was usual to do so even with battle-axes, as is told +in his second set of runes. Therefore you will take off +your coat and fight.” As I spoke, I stripped off my +own.</p> +<p>The man’s face was less florid than before. +“I’m not going to fight,” said he.</p> +<p>“Indeed you are,” I answered, “and this +young woman will doubtless do you the service to hold your +coat.”</p> +<p>“You’re clean balmy,” said Henrietta.</p> +<p>“Besides,” said I, “if you will not fight me +for love, perhaps you will fight me for this,” <!-- page +140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>and I held out a sovereign. “Will you hold +his coat?” I said to Henrietta.</p> +<p>“I’ll hold the thick ’un,” said +she.</p> +<p>“No, you don’t,” said the man, and put the +sovereign into the pocket of his trousers, which were of a +corduroy material. “Now,” said he, “what +am I to do to earn this?”</p> +<p>“Fight,” said I.</p> +<p>“How do you do it?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Put up your hands,” I answered.</p> +<p>He put them up as I had said, and stood there in a sheepish +manner with no idea of anything further. It seemed to me +that if I could make him angry he would do better, so I knocked +off his hat, which was black and hard, of the kind which is +called billy-cock.</p> +<p>“Heh, guv’nor!” he cried, “what are +you up to?”</p> +<p>“That was to make you angry,” said I.</p> +<p>“Well, I am angry,” said he.</p> +<p>“Then here is your hat,” said I, “and +afterwards we shall fight.”</p> +<p>I turned as I spoke to pick up his hat, which had rolled +behind where I was standing. As I stooped to reach it, I +received such a blow that I could neither rise erect nor yet sit +down. This blow which I received as I stooped for his +billy-cock hat was not from his fist, but from his iron-shod +boot, the same which I had observed upon the splashboard. +Being unable either to <!-- page 141--><a +name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>rise erect +or yet to sit down, I leaned upon the oaken bar of the stile and +groaned loudly on account of the pain of the blow which I had +received. Even the screaming horror had given me less pain +than this blow from the iron-shod boot. When at last I was +able to stand erect, I found that the florid-faced man had driven +away with his cart, which could no longer be seen. The +maiden from the dingle was standing at the other side of the +stile, and a ragged man was running across the field from the +direction of the fire.</p> +<p>“Why did you not warn me, Henrietta?” I asked.</p> +<p>“I hadn’t time,” said she. “Why +were you such a chump as to turn your back on him like +that?”</p> +<p>The ragged man had reached us, where I stood talking to +Henrietta by the stile. I will not try to write his +conversation as he said it, because I have observed that the +master never condescends to dialect, but prefers by a word +introduced here and there to show the fashion of a man’s +speech. I will only say that the man from the dingle spoke +as did the Anglo-Saxons, who were wont, as is clearly shown by +the venerable Bede, to call their leaders ’Enjist and +’Orsa, two words which in their proper meaning signify a +horse and a mare.</p> +<p>“What did he hit you for?” asked the man <!-- page +142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>from the dingle. He was exceedingly ragged, with +a powerful frame, a lean brown face, and an oaken cudgel in his +hand. His voice was very hoarse and rough, as is the case +with those who live in the open air. “The bloke hit +you,” said he. “What did the bloke hit you +for?”</p> +<p>“He asked him to,” said Henrietta.</p> +<p>“Asked him to—asked him what?”</p> +<p>“Why, he asked him to hit him. Gave him a thick +’un to do it.”</p> +<p>The ragged man seemed surprised. “See here, +gov’nor,” said he. “If you’re +collectin’, I could let you have one half-price.”</p> +<p>“He took me unawares,” said I.</p> +<p>“What else would the bloke do when you bashed his +hat?” said the maiden from the dingle.</p> +<p>By this time I was able to straighten myself up by the aid of +the oaken bar which formed the top of the stile. Having +quoted a few lines of the Chinese poet Lo-tun-an to the effect +that, however hard a knock might be, it might always conceivably +be harder, I looked about for my coat, but could by no means find +it.</p> +<p>“Henrietta,” I said, “what have you done +with my coat?”</p> +<p>“Look here, gov’nor,” said the man from the +dingle, “not so much Henrietta, if it’s the same to +you. This woman’s my wife. Who are you to call +her Henrietta?”</p> +<p><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>I assured the man from the dingle that I had meant no +disrespect to his wife. “I had thought she was a +mort,” said I; “but the ria of a Romany chal is +always sacred to me.”</p> +<p>“Clean balmy,” said the woman.</p> +<p>“Some other day,” said I, “I may visit you +in your camp in the dingle and read you the master’s book +about the Romanys.”</p> +<p>“What’s Romanys?” asked the man.</p> +<p><i>Myself</i>. Romanys are gipsies.</p> +<p><i>The Man</i>. We ain’t gipsies.</p> +<p><i>Myself</i>. What are you then?</p> +<p><i>The Man</i>. We are hoppers.</p> +<p><i>Myself</i> (to Henrietta). Then how did you +understand all I have said to you about gipsies?</p> +<p><i>Henrietta</i>. I didn’t.</p> +<p>I again asked for my coat, but it was clear now that before +offering to fight the florid-faced man with the mole over his +left eyebrow I must have hung my coat upon the splashboard of his +van. I therefore recited a verse from Ferideddin-Atar, the +Persian poet, which signifies that it is more important to +preserve your skin than your clothes, and bidding farewell to the +man from the dingle and his wife I returned into the old English +village of Swinehurst, where I was able to buy a second-hand +coat, which enabled me to make my way to the station, where I +should start for London. I could not but remark with some +surprise that I was followed to the station <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>by many of +the villagers, together with the man with the shiny coat, and +that other, the strange man, he who had slunk behind the +clock-case. From time to time I turned and approached them, +hoping to fall into conversation with them; but as I did so they +would break and hasten down the road. Only the village +constable came on, and he walked by my side and listened while I +told him the history of Hunyadi Janos and the events which +occurred during the wars between that hero, known also as +Corvinus or the crow-like, and Mahommed the second, he who +captured Constantinople, better known as Byzantium, before the +Christian epoch. Together with the constable I entered the +station, and seating myself in a carriage I took paper from my +pocket and I began to write upon the paper all that had occurred +to me, in order that I might show that it was not easy in these +days to follow the example of the master. As I wrote, I +heard the constable talk to the station-master, a stout, +middle-sized man with a red neck-tie, and tell him of my own +adventures in the old English village of Swinehurst.</p> +<p>“He is a gentleman too,” said the constable, +“and I doubt not that he lives in a big house in London +town.”</p> +<p>“A very big house if every man had his rights,” +said the station-master, and waving his hand he signalled that +the train should proceed.</p> +<h2><!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 145</span>VII. THE SURGEON OF GASTER +FELL</h2> +<h3>I—HOW THE WOMAN CAME TO KIRKBY-MALHOUSE</h3> +<p>Bleak and wind-swept is the little town of Kirkby-Malhouse, +harsh and forbidding are the fells upon which it stands. It +stretches in a single line of grey-stone, slate-roofed houses, +dotted down the furze-clad slope of the rolling moor.</p> +<p>In this lonely and secluded village, I, James Upperton, found +myself in the summer of ’85. Little as the hamlet had +to offer, it contained that for which I yearned above all +things—seclusion and freedom from all which might distract +my mind from the high and weighty subjects which engaged +it. But the inquisitiveness of my landlady made my lodgings +undesirable and I determined to seek new quarters.</p> +<p>As it chanced, I had in one of my rambles come upon an +isolated dwelling in the very heart of these lonely moors, which +I at once determined should be my own. It was a two-roomed +cottage, which had once belonged to some shepherd, but <!-- page +146--><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>had long been deserted, and was crumbling rapidly to +ruin. In the winter floods, the Gaster Beck, which runs +down Gaster Fell, where the little dwelling stood, had overswept +its banks and torn away a part of the wall. The roof was in +ill case, and the scattered slates lay thick amongst the +grass. Yet the main shell of the house stood firm and true; +and it was no great task for me to have all that was amiss set +right.</p> +<p>The two rooms I laid out in a widely different manner—my +own tastes are of a Spartan turn, and the outer chamber was so +planned as to accord with them. An oil-stove by Rippingille +of Birmingham furnished me with the means of cooking; while two +great bags, the one of flour, and the other of potatoes, made me +independent of all supplies from without. In diet I had +long been a Pythagorean, so that the scraggy, long-limbed sheep +which browsed upon the wiry grass by the Gaster Beck had little +to fear from their new companion. A nine-gallon cask of oil +served me as a sideboard; while a square table, a deal chair and +a truckle-bed completed the list of my domestic fittings. +At the head of my couch hung two unpainted shelves—the +lower for my dishes and cooking utensils, the upper for the few +portraits which took me back to the little that was pleasant in +the long, wearisome toiling for wealth and for pleasure which had +marked the life I had left behind.</p> +<p><!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>If this dwelling-room of mine were plain even to +squalor, its poverty was more than atoned for by the luxury of +the chamber which was destined to serve me as my study. I +had ever held that it was best for my mind to be surrounded by +such objects as would be in harmony with the studies which +occupied it, and that the loftiest and most ethereal conditions +of thought are only possible amid surroundings which please the +eye and gratify the senses. The room which I had set apart +for my mystic studies was set forth in a style as gloomy and +majestic as the thoughts and aspirations with which it was to +harmonise. Both walls and ceilings were covered with a +paper of the richest and glossiest black, on which was traced a +lurid and arabesque pattern of dead gold. A black velvet +curtain covered the single diamond-paned window; while a thick, +yielding carpet of the same material prevented the sound of my +own footfalls, as I paced backward and forward, from breaking the +current of my thought. Along the cornices ran gold rods, +from which depended six pictures, all of the sombre and +imaginative caste, which chimed best with my fancy.</p> +<p>And yet it was destined that ere ever I reached this quiet +harbour I should learn that I was still one of humankind, and +that it is an ill thing to strive to break the bond which binds +us to our fellows. It was but two nights before the date +<!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +148</span>I had fixed upon for my change of dwelling, when I was +conscious of a bustle in the house beneath, with the bearing of +heavy burdens up the creaking stair, and the harsh voice of my +landlady, loud in welcome and protestations of joy. From +time to time, amid the whirl of words, I could hear a gentle and +softly modulated voice, which struck pleasantly upon my ear after +the long weeks during which I had listened only to the rude +dialect of the dalesmen. For an hour I could hear the +dialogue beneath—the high voice and the low, with clatter +of cup and clink of spoon, until at last a light, quick step +passed my study door, and I knew that my new fellow lodger had +sought her room.</p> +<p>On the morning after this incident I was up betimes, as is my +wont; but I was surprised, on glancing from my window, to see +that our new inmate was earlier still. She was walking down +the narrow pathway, which zigzags over the fell—a tall +woman, slender, her head sunk upon her breast, her arms filled +with a bristle of wild flowers, which she had gathered in her +morning rambles. The white and pink of her dress, and the +touch of deep red ribbon in her broad drooping hat, formed a +pleasant dash of colour against the dun-tinted landscape. +She was some distance off when I first set eyes upon her, yet I +knew that this wandering woman could be none other than our +arrival of last night, for there was a grace <!-- page 149--><a +name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 149</span>and +refinement in her bearing which marked her from the dwellers of +the fells. Even as I watched, she passed swiftly and +lightly down the pathway, and turning through the wicket gate, at +the further end of our cottage garden, she seated herself upon +the green bank which faced my window, and strewing her flowers in +front of her, set herself to arrange them.</p> +<p>As she sat there, with the rising sun at her back, and the +glow of the morning spreading like an aureole around her stately +and well-poised head, I could see that she was a woman of +extraordinary personal beauty. Her face was Spanish rather +than English in its type—oval, olive, with black, sparkling +eyes, and a sweetly sensitive mouth. From under the broad +straw hat two thick coils of blue-black hair curved down on +either side of her graceful, queenly neck. I was surprised, +as I watched her, to see that her shoes and skirt bore witness to +a journey rather than to a mere morning ramble. Her light +dress was stained, wet and bedraggled; while her boots were thick +with the yellow soil of the fells. Her face, too, wore a +weary expression, and her young beauty seemed to be clouded over +by the shadow of inward trouble. Even as I watched her, she +burst suddenly into wild weeping, and throwing down her bundle of +flowers ran swiftly into the house.</p> +<p>Distrait as I was and weary of the ways of the <!-- page +150--><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +150</span>world, I was conscious of a sudden pang of sympathy and +grief as I looked upon the spasm of despair which, seemed to +convulse this strange and beautiful woman. I bent to my +books, and yet my thoughts would ever turn to her proud clear-cut +face, her weather-stained dress, her drooping head, and the +sorrow which lay in each line and feature of her pensive +face.</p> +<p>Mrs. Adams, my landlady, was wont to carry up my frugal +breakfast; yet it was very rarely that I allowed her to break the +current of my thoughts, or to draw my mind by her idle chatter +from weightier things. This morning, however, for once, she +found me in a listening mood, and with little prompting, +proceeded to pour into my ears all that she knew of our beautiful +visitor.</p> +<p>“Miss Eva Cameron be her name, sir,” she said: +“but who she be, or where she came fra, I know little more +than yoursel’. Maybe it was the same reason that +brought her to Kirkby-Malhouse as fetched you there +yoursel’, sir.”</p> +<p>“Possibly,” said I, ignoring the covert question; +“but I should hardly have thought that Kirkby-Malhouse was +a place which offered any great attractions to a young +lady.”</p> +<p>“Heh, sir!” she cried, “there’s the +wonder of it. The leddy has just come fra France; and how +her folk come to learn of me is just a wonder. A week ago, +up comes a man to my door—a fine man, sir, and a gentleman, +as one <!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>could see with half an eye. +‘You are Mrs. Adams,’ says he. ‘I engage +your rooms for Miss Cameron,’ says he. ‘She +will be here in a week,’ says he; and then off without a +word of terms. Last night there comes the young leddy +hersel’—soft-spoken and downcast, with a touch of the +French in her speech. But my sakes, sir! I must away +and mak’ her some tea, for she’ll feel lonesome-like, +poor lamb, when she wakes under a strange roof.”</p> +<h3>II—HOW I WENT FORTH TO GASTER FELL</h3> +<p>I was still engaged upon my breakfast when I heard the clatter +of dishes and the landlady’s footfall as she passed toward +her new lodger’s room. An instant afterward she had +rushed down the passage and burst in upon me with uplifted hand +and startled eyes. “Lord ’a mercy, sir!” +she cried, “and asking your pardon for troubling you, but +I’m feared o’ the young leddy, sir; she is not in her +room.”</p> +<p>“Why, there she is,” said I, standing up and +glancing through the casement. “She has gone back for +the flowers she left upon the bank.”</p> +<p>“Oh, sir, see her boots and her dress!” cried the +landlady, wildly. “I wish her mother was here, +sir—I do. Where she has been is more than I ken, but +her bed has not been lain on this night.”</p> +<p>“She has felt restless, doubtless, and went for <!-- +page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +152</span>a walk, though the hour was certainly a strange +one.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Adams pursed her lip and shook her head. But then +as she stood at the casement, the girl beneath looked smilingly +up at her and beckoned to her with a merry gesture to open the +window.</p> +<p>“Have you my tea there?” she asked in a rich, +clear voice, with a touch of the mincing French accent.</p> +<p>“It is in your room, miss.”</p> +<p>“Look at my boots, Mrs. Adams!” she cried, +thrusting them out from under her skirt. “These fells +of yours are dreadful places—effroyable—one inch, two +inch; never have I seen such mud! My dress, +too—<i>voilà</i>!”</p> +<p>“Eh, miss, but you are in a pickle,” cried the +landlady, as she gazed down at the bedraggled gown. +“But you must be main weary and heavy for sleep.”</p> +<p>“No, no,” she answered, laughingly, “I care +not for sleep. What is sleep? it is a little +death—<i>voilà tout</i>. But for me to walk, +to run, to beathe the air—that is to live. I was not +tired, and so all night I have explored these fells of +Yorkshire.”</p> +<p>“Lord ’a mercy, miss, and where did you go?” +asked Mrs. Adams.</p> +<p>She waved her hand round in a sweeping gesture which included +the whole western horizon. “There,” she +cried. “O comme elles sont tristes <!-- page 153--><a +name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>et +sauvages, ces collines! But I have flowers here. You +will give me water, will you not? They will wither +else.” She gathered her treasures in her lap, and a +moment later we heard her light, springy footfall upon the +stair.</p> +<p>So she had been out all night, this strange woman. What +motive could have taken her from her snug room on to the bleak, +wind-swept hills? Could it be merely the restlessness, the +love of adventure of a young girl? Or was there, possibly, +some deeper meaning in this nocturnal journey?</p> +<p>Deep as were the mysteries which my studies had taught me to +solve, here was a human problem which for the moment at least was +beyond my comprehension. I had walked out on the moor in +the forenoon, and on my return, as I topped the brow that +overlooks the little town, I saw my fellow-lodger some little +distance off among the gorse. She had raised a light easel +in front of her, and with papered board laid across it, was +preparing to paint the magnificent landscape of rock and moor +which stretched away in front of her. As I watched her I +saw that she was looking anxiously to right and left. Close +by me a pool of water had formed in a hollow. Dipping the +cup of my pocket-flask into it, I carried it across to her.</p> +<p>“Miss Cameron, I believe,” said I. “I +am your fellow-lodger. Upperton is my name. <!-- page +154--><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>We +must introduce ourselves in these wilds if we are not to be for +ever strangers.”</p> +<p>“Oh, then, you live also with Mrs. Adams!” she +cried. “I had thought that there were none but +peasants in this strange place.”</p> +<p>“I am a visitor, like yourself,” I answered. +“I am a student, and have come for quiet and repose, which +my studies demand.”</p> +<p>“Quiet, indeed!” said she, glancing round at the +vast circle of silent moors, with the one tiny line of grey +cottages which sloped down beneath us.</p> +<p>“And yet not quiet enough,” I answered, laughing, +“for I have been forced to move further into the fells for +the absolute peace which I require.”</p> +<p>“Have you, then, built a house upon the fells?” +she asked, arching her eyebrows.</p> +<p>“I have, and hope within a few days to occupy +it.”</p> +<p>“Ah, but that is <i>triste</i>,” she cried. +“And where is it, then, this house which you have +built?”</p> +<p>“It is over yonder,” I answered. “See +that stream which lies like a silver band upon the distant +moor? It is the Gaster Beck, and it runs through Gaster +Fell.”</p> +<p>She started, and turned upon me her great dark, questioning +eyes with a look in which surprise, incredulity, and something +akin to horror seemed to be struggling for mastery.</p> +<p><!-- page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>“And you will live on the Gaster Fell?” she +cried.</p> +<p>“So I have planned. But what do you know of Gaster +Fell, Miss Cameron?” I asked. “I had thought +that you were a stranger in these parts.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, I have never been here before,” she +answered. “But I have heard my brother talk of these +Yorkshire moors; and, if I mistake not, I have heard him name +this very one as the wildest and most savage of them +all.”</p> +<p>“Very likely,” said I, carelessly. “It +is indeed a dreary place.”</p> +<p>“Then why live there?” she cried, eagerly. +“Consider the loneliness, the barrenness, the want of all +comfort and of all aid, should aid be needed.”</p> +<p>“Aid! What aid should be needed on Gaster +Fell?”</p> +<p>She looked down and shrugged her shoulders. +“Sickness may come in all places,” said she. +“If I were a man I do not think I would live alone on +Gaster Fell.”</p> +<p>“I have braved worse dangers than that,” said I, +laughing; “but I fear that your picture will be spoiled, +for the clouds are banking up, and already I feel a few +raindrops.”</p> +<p>Indeed, it was high time we were on our way to shelter, for +even as I spoke there came the sudden, steady swish of the +shower. Laughing <!-- page 156--><a +name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>merrily, my +companion threw her light shawl over her head, and, seizing +picture and easel, ran with the lithe grace of a young fawn down +the furze-clad slope, while I followed after with camp-stool and +paint-box.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>It was the eve of my departure from Kirkby-Malhouse that we +sat upon the green bank in the garden, she with dark dreamy eyes +looking sadly out over the sombre fells; while I, with a book +upon my knee, glanced covertly at her lovely profile and +marvelled to myself how twenty years of life could have stamped +so sad and wistful an expression upon it.</p> +<p>“You have read much,” I remarked at last. +“Women have opportunities now such as their mothers never +knew. Have you ever thought of going further—or +seeking a course of college or even a learned +profession?”</p> +<p>She smiled wearily at the thought.</p> +<p>“I have no aim, no ambition,” she said. +“My future is black—confused—a chaos. My +life is like to one of these paths upon the fells. You have +seen them, Monsieur Upperton. They are smooth and straight +and clear where they begin; but soon they wind to left and wind +to right, and so mid rocks and crags until they lose themselves +in some quagmire. At Brussels my path was straight; but +now, <i>mon Dieu</i>! who is there can tell me where it +leads?”</p> +<p><!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>“It might take no prophet to do that, Miss +Cameron,” quoth I, with the fatherly manner which twoscore +years may show toward one. “If I may read your life, +I would venture to say that you were destined to fulfil the lot +of women—to make some good man happy, and to shed around, +in some wider circle, the pleasure which your society has given +me since first I knew you.”</p> +<p>“I will never marry,” said she, with a sharp +decision, which surprised and somewhat amused me.</p> +<p>“Not marry—and why?”</p> +<p>A strange look passed over her sensitive features, and she +plucked nervously at the grass on the bank beside her.</p> +<p>“I dare not,” said she in a voice that quivered +with emotion.</p> +<p>“Dare not?”</p> +<p>“It is not for me. I have other things to +do. That path of which I spoke is one which I must tread +alone.”</p> +<p>“But this is morbid,” said I. “Why +should your lot, Miss Cameron, be separate from that of my own +sisters, or the thousand other young ladies whom every season +brings out into the world? But perhaps it is that you have +a fear and distrust of mankind. Marriage brings a risk as +well as a happiness.”</p> +<p>“The risk would be with the man who married me,” +she cried. And then in an instant, as <!-- page 158--><a +name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 158</span>though she +had said too much, she sprang to her feet and drew her mantle +round her. “The night air is chill, Mr. +Upperton,” said she, and so swept swiftly away, leaving me +to muse over the strange words which had fallen from her +lips.</p> +<p>Clearly, it was time that I should go. I set my teeth +and vowed that another day should not have passed before I should +have snapped this newly formed tie and sought the lonely retreat +which awaited me upon the moors. Breakfast was hardly over +in the morning before a peasant dragged up to the door the rude +hand-cart which was to convey my few personal belongings to my +new dwelling. My fellow-lodger had kept her room; and, +steeled as my mind was against her influence, I was yet conscious +of a little throb of disappointment that she should allow me to +depart without a word of farewell. My hand-cart with its +load of books had already started, and I, having shaken hands +with Mrs. Adams, was about to follow it, when there was a quick +scurry of feet on the stair, and there she was beside me all +panting with her own haste.</p> +<p>“Then you go—you really go?” said she.</p> +<p>“My studies call me.”</p> +<p>“And to Gaster Fell?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Yes; to the cottage which I have built +there.”</p> +<p>“And you will live alone there?”</p> +<p>“With my hundred companions who lie in that +cart.”</p> +<p><!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>“Ah, books!” she cried, with a pretty shrug +of her graceful shoulders. “But you will make me a +promise?”</p> +<p>“What is it?” I asked, in surprise.</p> +<p>“It is a small thing. You will not refuse +me?”</p> +<p>“You have but to ask it.”</p> +<p>She bent forward her beautiful face with an expression of the +most intense earnestness. “You will bolt your door at +night?” said she; and was gone ere I could say a word in +answer to her extraordinary request.</p> +<p>It was a strange thing for me to find myself at last duly +installed in my lonely dwelling. For me, now, the horizon +was bounded by the barren circle of wiry, unprofitable grass, +patched over with furze bushes and scarred by the profusion of +Nature’s gaunt and granite ribs. A duller, wearier +waste I have never seen; but its dullness was its very charm.</p> +<p>And yet the very first night which I spent at Gaster Fell +there came a strange incident to lead my thoughts back once more +to the world which I had left behind me.</p> +<p>It had been a sullen and sultry evening, with great livid +cloud-banks mustering in the west. As the night wore on, +the air within my little cabin became closer and more +oppressive. A weight seemed to rest upon my brow and my +chest. From far away the low rumble of thunder came moaning +over the moor. Unable to sleep, <!-- page 160--><a +name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>I dressed, +and standing at my cottage door, looked on the black solitude +which surrounded me.</p> +<p>Taking the narrow sheep path which ran by this stream, I +strolled along it for some hundred yards, and had turned to +retrace my steps, when the moon was finally buried beneath an +ink-black cloud, and the darkness deepened so suddenly that I +could see neither the path at my feet, the stream upon my right, +nor the rocks upon my left. I was standing groping about in +the thick gloom, when there came a crash of thunder with a flash +of lightning which lighted up the whole vast fell, so that every +bush and rock stood out clear and hard in the vivid light. +It was but for an instant, and yet that momentary view struck a +thrill of fear and astonishment through me, for in my very path, +not twenty yards before me, there stood a woman, the livid light +beating upon her face and showing up every detail of her dress +and features.</p> +<p>There was no mistaking those dark eyes, that tall, graceful +figure. It was she—Eva Cameron, the woman whom I +thought I had for ever left. For an instant I stood +petrified, marvelling whether this could indeed be she, or +whether it was some figment conjured up by my excited +brain. Then I ran swiftly forward in the direction where I +had seen her, calling loudly upon her, but without reply. +Again I called, and again no answer came back, save the +melancholy <!-- page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 161</span>wail of the owl. A second +flash illuminated the landscape, and the moon burst out from +behind its cloud. But I could not, though I climbed upon a +knoll which overlooked the whole moor, see any sign of this +strange midnight wanderer. For an hour or more I traversed +the fell, and at last found myself back at my little cabin, still +uncertain as to whether it had been a woman or a shadow upon +which I gazed.</p> +<h3>III—OF THE GREY COTTAGE IN THE GLEN</h3> +<p>It was either on the fourth or the fifth day after I had taken +possession of my cottage that I was astonished to hear footsteps +upon the grass outside, quickly followed by a crack, as from a +stick upon the door. The explosion of an infernal machine +would hardly have surprised or discomfited me more. I had +hoped to have shaken off all intrusion for ever, yet here was +somebody beating at my door with as little ceremony as if it had +been a village ale-house. Hot with anger, I flung down my +book and withdrew the bolt just as my visitor had raised his +stick to renew his rough application for admittance. He was +a tall, powerful man, tawny-bearded and deep-chested, clad in a +loose-fitting suit of tweed, cut for comfort rather than +elegance. As he stood in the shimmering sunlight, I took in +every feature of his face. The large, fleshy nose; the +steady blue eyes, with their thick thatch of <!-- page 162--><a +name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>overhanging +brows; the broad forehead, all knitted and lined with furrows, +which were strangely at variance with his youthful bearing. +In spite of his weather-stained felt hat, and the coloured +handkerchief slung round his muscular brown neck, I could see at +a glance he was a man of breeding and education. I had been +prepared for some wandering shepherd or uncouth tramp, but this +apparition fairly disconcerted me.</p> +<p>“You look astonished,” said he, with a +smile. “Did you think, then, that you were the only +man in the world with a taste for solitude? You see that +there are other hermits in the wilderness besides +yourself.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say that you live here?” I asked +in no conciliatory voice.</p> +<p>“Up yonder,” he answered, tossing his head +backward. “I thought as we were neighbours, Mr. +Upperton, that I could not do less than look in and see if I +could assist you in any way.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” I said coldly, standing with my hand +upon the latch of the door. “I am a man of simple +tastes, and you can do nothing for me. You have the +advantage of me in knowing my name.”</p> +<p>He appeared to be chilled by my ungracious manner.</p> +<p>“I learned it from the masons who were at work +here,” he said. “As for me, I am a surgeon, the +surgeon of Gaster Fell. That is the name <!-- page 163--><a +name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>I have gone +by in these parts, and it serves as well as another.”</p> +<p>“Not much room for practice here?” I observed.</p> +<p>“Not a soul except yourself for miles on either +side.”</p> +<p>“You appear to have had need of some assistance +yourself,” I remarked, glancing at a broad white splash, as +from the recent action of some powerful acid, upon his sunburnt +cheek.</p> +<p>“That is nothing,” he answered, curtly, turning +his face half round to hide the mark. “I must get +back, for I have a companion who is waiting for me. If I +can ever do anything for you, pray let me know. You have +only to follow the beck upward for a mile or so to find my +place. Have you a bolt on the inside of your +door?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” I answered, rather startled at this +question.</p> +<p>“Keep it bolted, then,” he said. “The +fell is a strange place. You never know who may be +about. It is as well to be on the safe side. +Goodbye.” He raised his hat, turned on his heel and +lounged away along the bank of the little stream.</p> +<p>I was still standing with my hand upon the latch, gazing after +my unexpected visitor, when I became aware of yet another dweller +in the wilderness. Some distance along the path which the +stranger was taking there lay a great grey boulder, and leaning +against this was a small, <!-- page 164--><a +name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 164</span>wizened +man, who stood erect as the other approached, and advanced to +meet him. The two talked for a minute or more, the taller +man nodding his head frequently in my direction, as though +describing what had passed between us. Then they walked on +together, and disappeared in a dip of the fell. Presently I +saw them ascending once more some rising ground farther on. +My acquaintance had thrown his arm round his elderly friend, +either from affection or from a desire to aid him up the steep +incline. The square burly figure and its shrivelled, meagre +companion stood out against the sky-line, and turning their +faces, they looked back at me. At the sight, I slammed the +door, lest they should be encouraged to return. But when I +peeped from the window some minutes afterward, I perceived that +they were gone.</p> +<p>All day I bent over the Egyptian papyrus upon which I was +engaged; but neither the subtle reasonings of the ancient +philosopher of Memphis, nor the mystic meaning which lay in his +pages, could raise my mind from the things of earth. +Evening was drawing in before I threw my work aside in +despair. My heart was bitter against this man for his +intrusion. Standing by the beck which purled past the door +of my cabin, I cooled my heated brow, and thought the matter +over. Clearly it was the small mystery hanging over these +neighbours of mine which had <!-- page 165--><a +name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>caused my +mind to run so persistently on them. That cleared up, they +would no longer cause an obstacle to my studies. What was +to hinder me, then, from walking in the direction of their +dwelling, and observing for myself, without permitting them to +suspect my presence, what manner of men they might be? +Doubtless, their mode of life would be found to admit of some +simple and prosaic explanation. In any case, the evening +was fine, and a walk would be bracing for mind and body. +Lighting my pipe, I set off over the moors in the direction which +they had taken.</p> +<p>About half-way down a wild glen there stood a small clump of +gnarled and stunted oak trees. From behind these, a thin +dark column of smoke rose into the still evening air. +Clearly this marked the position of my neighbour’s +house. Trending away to the left, I was able to gain the +shelter of a line of rocks, and so reach a spot from which I +could command a view of the building without exposing myself to +any risk of being observed. It was a small, slate-covered +cottage, hardly larger than the boulders among which it +lay. Like my own cabin, it showed signs of having been +constructed for the use of some shepherd; but, unlike mine, no +pains had been taken by the tenants to improve and enlarge +it. Two little peeping windows, a cracked and +weather-beaten door, and a discoloured barrel for catching the +rain water, were the only external <!-- page 166--><a +name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>objects +from which I might draw deductions as to the dwellers +within. Yet even in these there was food for thought, for +as I drew nearer, still concealing myself behind the ridge, I saw +that thick bars of iron covered the windows, while the old door +was slashed and plated with the same metal. These strange +precautions, together with the wild surroundings and unbroken +solitude, gave an indescribably ill omen and fearsome character +to the solitary building. Thrusting my pipe into my pocket, +I crawled upon my hands and knees through the gorse and ferns +until I was within a hundred yards of my neighbour’s +door. There, finding that I could not approach nearer +without fear of detection, I crouched down, and set myself to +watch.</p> +<p>I had hardly settled into my hiding place, when the door of +the cottage swung open, and the man who had introduced himself to +me as the surgeon of Gaster Fell came out, bareheaded, with a +spade in his hands. In front of the door there was a small +cultivated patch containing potatoes, peas and other forms of +green stuff, and here he proceeded to busy himself, trimming, +weeding and arranging, singing the while in a powerful though not +very musical voice. He was all engrossed in his work, with +his back to the cottage, when there emerged from the half-open +door the same attenuated creature whom I had seen in the +morning. I could perceive now <!-- page 167--><a +name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>that he was +a man of sixty, wrinkled, bent, and feeble, with sparse, grizzled +hair, and long, colourless face. With a cringing, sidelong +gait, he shuffled toward his companion, who was unconscious of +his approach until he was close upon him. His light +footfall or his breathing may have finally given notice of his +proximity, for the worker sprang round and faced him. Each +made a quick step toward the other, as though in greeting, and +then—even now I feel the horror of the instant—the +tall man rushed upon and knocked his companion to the earth, then +whipping up his body, ran with great speed over the intervening +ground and disappeared with his burden into the house.</p> +<p>Case hardened as I was by my varied life, the suddenness and +violence of the thing made me shudder. The man’s age, +his feeble frame, his humble and deprecating manner, all cried +shame against the deed. So hot was my anger, that I was on +the point of striding up to the cabin, unarmed as I was, when the +sound of voices from within showed me that the victim had +recovered. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and all +was grey, save a red feather in the cap of Pennigent. +Secure in the failing light, I approached near and strained my +ears to catch what was passing. I could hear the high, +querulous voice of the elder man and the deep, rough monotone of +his assailant, mixed with a strange metallic <!-- page 168--><a +name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>jangling +and clanking. Presently the surgeon came out, locked the +door behind him and stamped up and down in the twilight, pulling +at his hair and brandishing his arms, like a man demented. +Then he set off, walking rapidly up the valley, and I soon lost +sight of him among the rocks.</p> +<p>When his footsteps had died away in the distance, I drew +nearer to the cottage. The prisoner within was still +pouring forth a stream of words, and moaning from time to time +like a man in pain. These words resolved themselves, as I +approached, into prayers—shrill, voluble prayers, pattered +forth with the intense earnestness of one who sees impending an +imminent danger. There was to me something inexpressibly +awesome in this gush of solemn entreaty from the lonely sufferer, +meant for no human ear, and jarring upon the silence of the +night. I was still pondering whether I should mix myself in +the affair or not, when I heard in the distance the sound of the +surgeon’s returning footfall. At that I drew myself +up quickly by the iron bars and glanced in through the +diamond-paned window. The interior of the cottage was +lighted up by a lurid glow, coming from what I afterward +discovered to be a chemical furnace. By its rich light I +could distinguish a great litter of retorts, test tubes and +condensers, which sparkled over the table, and threw strange, +grotesque shadows on the wall. On the further side of the +<!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>room was a wooden framework resembling a hencoop, and +in this, still absorbed in prayer, knelt the man whose voice I +heard. The red glow beating upon his upturned face made it +stand out from the shadow like a painting from Rembrandt, showing +up every wrinkle upon the parchment-like skin. I had but +time for a fleeting glance; then, dropping from the window, I +made off through the rocks and the heather, nor slackened my pace +until I found myself back in my cabin once more. There I +threw myself upon my couch, more disturbed and shaken than I had +ever thought to feel again.</p> +<p>Such doubts as I might have had as to whether I had indeed +seen my former fellow-lodger upon the night of the thunderstorm +were resolved the next morning. Strolling along down the +path which led to the fell, I saw in one spot where the ground +was soft the impressions of a foot—the small, dainty foot +of a well-booted woman. That tiny heel and high instep +could have belonged to none other than my companion of +Kirkby-Malhouse. I followed her trail for some distance, +till it still pointed, as far as I could discern it, to the +lonely and ill-omened cottage. What power could there be to +draw this tender girl, through wind and rain and darkness, across +the fearsome moors to that strange rendezvous?</p> +<p>I have said that a little beck flowed down the valley and past +my very door. A week or so <!-- page 170--><a +name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>after the +doings which I have described, I was seated by my window when I +perceived something white drifting slowly down the stream. +My first thought was that it was a drowning sheep; but picking up +my stick, I strolled to the bank and hooked it ashore. On +examination it proved to be a large sheet, torn and tattered, +with the initials J. C. in the corner. What gave it its +sinister significance, however, was that from hem to hem it was +all dabbled and discoloured.</p> +<p>Shutting the door of my cabin, I set off up the glen in the +direction of the surgeon’s cabin. I had not gone far +before I perceived the very man himself. He was walking +rapidly along the hillside, beating the furze bushes with a +cudgel and bellowing like a madman. Indeed, at the sight of +him, the doubts as to his sanity which had arisen in my mind were +strengthened and confirmed.</p> +<p>As he approached I noticed that his left arm was suspended in +a sling. On perceiving me he stood irresolute, as though +uncertain whether to come over to me or not. I had no +desire for an interview with him, however, so I hurried past him, +on which he continued on his way, still shouting and striking +about with his club. When he had disappeared over the +fells, I made my way down to his cottage, determined to find some +clue to what had occurred. I was surprised, on reaching it, +to find the iron-plated door flung wide open. The ground +immediately outside <!-- page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 171</span>it was marked with the signs of a +struggle. The chemical apparatus within and the furniture +were all dashed about and shattered. Most suggestive of +all, the sinister wooden cage was stained with blood-marks, and +its unfortunate occupant had disappeared. My heart was +heavy for the little man, for I was assured I should never see +him in this world more.</p> +<p>There was nothing in the cabin to throw any light upon the +identity of my neighbours. The room was stuffed with +chemical instruments. In one corner a small bookcase +contained a choice selection of works of science. In +another was a pile of geological specimens collected from the +limestone.</p> +<p>I caught no glimpse of the surgeon upon my homeward journey; +but when I reached my cottage I was astonished and indignant to +find that somebody had entered it in my absence. Boxes had +been pulled out from under the bed, the curtains disarranged, the +chairs drawn out from the wall. Even my study had not been +safe from this rough intruder, for the prints of a heavy boot +were plainly visible on the ebony-black carpet.</p> +<h3>IV—OF THE MAN WHO CAME IN THE NIGHT</h3> +<p>The night set in gusty and tempestuous, and the moon was all +girt with ragged clouds. The wind blew in melancholy gusts, +sobbing and sighing over the moor, and setting all the gorse <!-- +page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +172</span>bushes agroaning. From time to time a little +sputter of rain pattered up against the window-pane. I sat +until near midnight, glancing over the fragment on immortality by +Iamblichus, the Alexandrian platonist, of whom the Emperor Julian +said that he was posterior to Plato in time but not in +genius. At last, shutting up my book, I opened my door and +took a last look at the dreary fell and still more dreary +sky. As I protruded my head, a swoop of wind caught me and +sent the red ashes of my pipe sparkling and dancing through the +darkness. At the same moment the moon shone brilliantly out +from between two clouds, and I saw, sitting on the hillside, not +two hundred yards from my door, the man who called himself the +surgeon of Gaster Fell. He was squatted among the heather, +his elbows upon his knees, and his chin resting upon his hands, +as motionless as a stone, with his gaze fixed steadily upon the +door of my dwelling.</p> +<p>At the sight of this ill-omened sentinel, a chill of horror +and of fear shot through me, for his gloomy and mysterious +associations had cast a glamour round the man, and the hour and +place were in keeping with his sinister presence. In a +moment, however, a manly glow of resentment and self-confidence +drove this petty emotion from my mind, and I strode fearlessly in +his direction. He rose as I approached and faced me, with +the moon shining on his grave, bearded <!-- page 173--><a +name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>face and +glittering on his eyeballs. “What is the meaning of +this?” I cried, as I came upon him. “What right +have you to play the spy on me?”</p> +<p>I could see the flush of anger rise on his face. +“Your stay in the country has made you forget your +manners,” he said. “The moor is free to +all.”</p> +<p>“You will say next that my house is free to all,” +I said, hotly. “You have had the impertience to +ransack it in my absence this afternoon.”</p> +<p>He started, and his features showed the most intense +excitement. “I swear to you that I had no hand in +it!” he cried. “I have never set foot in your +house in my life. Oh, sir, sir, if you will but believe me, +there is a danger hanging over you, and you would do well to be +careful.”</p> +<p>“I have had enough of you,” I said. “I +saw that cowardly blow you struck when you thought no human eye +rested upon you. I have been to your cottage, too, and know +all that it has to tell. If there is a law in England, you +shall hang for what you have done. As to me, I am an old +soldier, sir, and I am armed. I shall not fasten my +door. But if you or any other villain attempt to cross my +threshold it shall be at your own risk.” With these +words, I swung round upon my heel and strode into my cabin.</p> +<p>For two days the wind freshened and increased, with constant +squalls of rain until on the third night the most furious storm +was <!-- page 174--><a name="page174"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 174</span>raging which I can ever recollect in +England. I felt that it was positively useless to go to +bed, nor could I concentrate my mind sufficiently to read a +book. I turned my lamp half down to moderate the glare, and +leaning back in my chair, I gave myself up to reverie. I +must have lost all perception of time, for I have no recollection +how long I sat there on the borderland betwixt thought and +slumber. At last, about 3 or possibly 4 o’clock, I +came to myself with a start—not only came to myself, but +with every sense and nerve upon the strain. Looking round +my chamber in the dim light, I could not see anything to justify +my sudden trepidation. The homely room, the rain-blurred +window and the rude wooden door were all as they had been. +I had begun to persuade myself that some half-formed dream had +sent that vague thrill through my nerves, when in a moment I +became conscious of what it was. It was a sound—the +sound of a human step outside my solitary cottage.</p> +<p>Amid the thunder and the rain and the wind I could hear +it—a dull, stealthy footfall, now on the grass, now on the +stones—occasionally stopping entirely, then resumed, and +ever drawing nearer. I sat breathlessly, listening to the +eerie sound. It had stopped now at my very door, and was +replaced by a panting and gasping, as of one who has travelled +fast and far.</p> +<p>By the flickering light of the expiring lamp <!-- page +175--><a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>I +could see that the latch of my door was twitching, as though a +gentle pressure was exerted on it from without. Slowly, +slowly, it rose, until it was free of the catch, and then there +was a pause of a quarter minute or more, while I still eat silent +with dilated eyes and drawn sabre. Then, very slowly, the +door began to revolve upon its hinges, and the keen air of the +night came whistling through the slit. Very cautiously it +was pushed open, so that never a sound came from the rusty +hinges. As the aperture enlarged, I became aware of a dark, +shadowy figure upon my threshold, and of a pale face that looked +in at me. The features were human, but the eyes were +not. They seemed to burn through the darkness with a +greenish brilliancy of their own; and in their baleful, shifty +glare I was conscious of the very spirit of murder. +Springing from my chair, I had raised my naked sword, when, with +a wild shouting, a second figure dashed up to my door. At +its approach my shadowy visitant uttered a shrill cry, and fled +away across the fells, yelping like a beaten hound.</p> +<p>Tingling with my recent fear, I stood at my door, peering +through the night with the discordant cry of the fugitives still +ringing in my ears. At that moment a vivid flash of +lightning illuminated the whole landscape and made it as clear as +day. By its light I saw far away upon the hillside two dark +figures pursuing each other <!-- page 176--><a +name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>with +extreme rapidity across the fells. Even at that distance +the contrast between them forbid all doubt as to their +identity. The first was the small, elderly man, whom I had +supposed to be dead; the second was my neighbour, the +surgeon. For an instant they stood out clear and hard in +the unearthly light; in the next, the darkness had closed over +them, and they were gone. As I turned to re-enter my +chamber, my foot rattled against something on my threshold. +Stooping, I found it was a straight knife, fashioned entirely of +lead, and so soft and brittle that it was a strange choice for a +weapon. To render it more harmless, the top had been cut +square off. The edge, however, had been assiduously +sharpened against a stone, as was evident from the markings upon +it, so that it was still a dangerous implement in the grasp of a +determined man.</p> +<p>And what was the meaning of it all? you ask. Many a +drama which I have come across in my wandering life, some as +strange and as striking as this one, has lacked the ultimate +explanation which you demand. Fate is a grand weaver of +tales; but she ends them, as a rule, in defiance of all artistic +laws, and with an unbecoming want of regard for literary +propriety. As it happens, however, I have a letter before +me as I write which I may add without comment, and which will +clear all that may remain dark.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><!-- page 177--><a +name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>“<span class="smcap">Kirkby Lunatic +Asylum</span>,<br /> +“<i>September</i> 4<i>th</i>, 1885.</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—I am deeply +conscious that some apology and explanation is due to you for the +very startling and, in your eyes, mysterious events which have +recently occurred, and which have so seriously interfered with +the retired existence which you desire to lead. I should +have called upon you on the morning after the recapture of my +father, but my knowledge of your dislike to visitors and also +of—you will excuse my saying it—your very violent +temper, led me to think that it was better to communicate with +you by letter.</p> +<p>“My poor father was a hard-working general practitioner +in Birmingham, where his name is still remembered and +respected. About ten years ago he began to show signs of +mental aberration, which we were inclined to put down to overwork +and the effects of a sunstroke. Feeling my own incompetence +to pronounce upon a case of such importance, I at once sought the +highest advice in Birmingham and London. Among others we +consulted the eminent alienist, Mr. Fraser Brown, who pronounced +my father’s case to be intermittent in its nature, but +dangerous during the paroxysms. ‘It may take a +homicidal, or it may take a religious turn,’ he said; +‘or it may prove to be a mixture of both. For months +he may be as well as you or me, and then in a moment he may break +out. You will incur a great responsibility if you leave him +without supervision.’</p> +<p>“I need say no more, sir. You will understand the +terrible task which has fallen upon my poor sister and me in +endeavouring to save my father from the asylum which in his sane +moments filled him with horror. I can only regret that your +peace has been disturbed by our misfortunes, and I offer you in +my sister’s name and my own our apologies.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“Yours truly,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">J. Cameron</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 178</span>VIII. HOW IT HAPPENED</h2> +<p>She was a writing medium. This is what she +wrote:—</p> +<p>I can remember some things upon that evening most distinctly, +and others are like some vague, broken dreams. That is what +makes it so difficult to tell a connected story. I have no +idea now what it was that had taken me to London and brought me +back so late. It just merges into all my other visits to +London. But from the time that I got out at the little +country station everything is extraordinarily clear. I can +live it again—every instant of it.</p> +<p>I remember so well walking down the platform and looking at +the illuminated clock at the end which told me that it was +half-past eleven. I remember also my wondering whether I +could get home before midnight. Then I remember the big +motor, with its glaring head-lights and glitter of polished +brass, waiting for me outside. It was my new +thirty-horse-power Robur, which had only been delivered that +day. I remember also asking Perkins, my chauffeur, how she +had <!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 179</span>gone, and his saying that he thought +she was excellent.</p> +<p>“I’ll try her myself,” said I, and I climbed +into the driver’s seat.</p> +<p>“The gears are not the same,” said he. +“Perhaps, sir, I had better drive.”</p> +<p>“No; I should like to try her,” said I.</p> +<p>And so we started on the five-mile drive for home.</p> +<p>My old car had the gears as they used always to be in notches +on a bar. In this car you passed the gear-lever through a +gate to get on the higher ones. It was not difficult to +master, and soon I thought that I understood it. It was +foolish, no doubt, to begin to learn a new system in the dark, +but one often does foolish things, and one has not always to pay +the full price for them. I got along very well until I came +to Claystall Hill. It is one of the worst hills in England, +a mile and a half long and one in six in places, with three +fairly sharp curves. My park gates stand at the very foot +of it upon the main London road.</p> +<p>We were just over the brow of this hill, where the grade is +steepest, when the trouble began. I had been on the top +speed, and wanted to get her on the free; but she stuck between +gears, and I had to get her back on the top again. By this +time she was going at a great rate, so I clapped on both brakes, +and one after the other <!-- page 180--><a +name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>they gave +way. I didn’t mind so much when I felt my footbrake +snap, but when I put all my weight on my side-brake, and the +lever clanged to its full limit without a catch, it brought a +cold sweat out of me. By this time we were fairly tearing +down the slope. The lights were brilliant, and I brought +her round the first curve all right. Then we did the second +one, though it was a close shave for the ditch. There was a +mile of straight then with the third curve beneath it, and after +that the gate of the park. If I could shoot into that +harbour all would be well, for the slope up to the house would +bring her to a stand.</p> +<p>Perkins behaved splendidly. I should like that to be +known. He was perfectly cool and alert. I had thought +at the very beginning of taking the bank, and he read my +intention.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t do it, sir,” said he. +“At this pace it must go over and we should have it on the +top of us.”</p> +<p>Of course he was right. He got to the electric switch +and had it off, so we were in the free; but we were still running +at a fearful pace. He laid his hands on the wheel.</p> +<p>“I’ll keep her steady,” said he, “if +you care to jump and chance it. We can never get round that +curve. Better jump, sir.”</p> +<p>“No,” said I; “I’ll stick it +out. You can jump if you like.”</p> +<p><!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +181</span>“I’ll stick it with you, sir,” said +he.</p> +<p>If it had been the old car I should have jammed the gear-lever +into the reverse, and seen what would happen. I expect she +would have stripped her gears or smashed up somehow, but it would +have been a chance. As it was, I was helpless. +Perkins tried to climb across, but you couldn’t do it going +at that pace. The wheels were whirring like a high wind and +the big body creaking and groaning with the strain. But the +lights were brilliant, and one could steer to an inch. I +remember thinking what an awful and yet majestic sight we should +appear to any one who met us. It was a narrow road, and we +were just a great, roaring, golden death to any one who came in +our path.</p> +<p>We got round the corner with one wheel three feet high upon +the bank. I thought we were surely over, but after +staggering for a moment she righted and darted onwards. +That was the third corner and the last one. There was only +the park gate now. It was facing us, but, as luck would +have it, not facing us directly. It was about twenty yards +to the left up the main road into which we ran. Perhaps I +could have done it, but I expect that the steering-gear had been +jarred when we ran on the bank. The wheel did not turn +easily. We shot out of the lane. I saw the open gate +on the left. I whirled round my wheel with all the strength +of my wrists. <!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 182</span>Perkins and I threw our bodies +across, and then the next instant, going at fifty miles an hour, +my right front wheel struck full on the right-hand pillar of my +own gate. I heard the crash. I was conscious of +flying through the air, and then—and then—!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>When I became aware of my own existence once more I was among +some brushwood in the shadow of the oaks upon the lodge side of +the drive. A man was standing beside me. I imagined +at first that it was Perkins, but when I looked again I saw that +it was Stanley, a man whom I had known at college some years +before, and for whom I had a really genuine affection. +There was always something peculiarly sympathetic to me in +Stanley’s personality; and I was proud to think that I had +some similar influence upon him. At the present moment I +was surprised to see him, but I was like a man in a dream, giddy +and shaken and quite prepared to take things as I found them +without questioning them.</p> +<p>“What a smash!” I said. “Good Lord, +what an awful smash!”</p> +<p>He nodded his head, and even in the gloom I could see that he +was smiling the gentle, wistful smile which I connected with +him.</p> +<p>I was quite unable to move. Indeed, I had not any desire +to try to move. But my senses <!-- page 183--><a +name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>were +exceedingly alert. I saw the wreck of the motor lit up by +the moving lanterns. I saw the little group of people and +heard the hushed voices. There were the lodge-keeper and +his wife, and one or two more. They were taking no notice +of me, but were very busy round the car. Then suddenly I +heard a cry of pain.</p> +<p>“The weight is on him. Lift it easy,” cried +a voice.</p> +<p>“It’s only my leg!” said another one, which +I recognized as Perkins’s. “Where’s +master?” he cried.</p> +<p>“Here I am,” I answered, but they did not seem to +hear me. They were all bending over something which lay in +front of the car.</p> +<p>Stanley laid his hand upon my shoulder, and his touch was +inexpressibly soothing. I felt light and happy, in spite of +all.</p> +<p>“No pain, of course?” said he.</p> +<p>“None,” said I.</p> +<p>“There never is,” said he.</p> +<p>And then suddenly a wave of amazement passed over me. +Stanley! Stanley! Why, Stanley had surely died of +enteric at Bloemfontein in the Boer War!</p> +<p>“Stanley!” I cried, and the words seemed to choke +my throat—“Stanley, you are dead.”</p> +<p>He looked at me with the same old gentle, wistful smile.</p> +<p>“So are you,” he answered.</p> +<h2><!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 184</span>IX. THE PRISONER’S +DEFENCE</h2> +<p>The circumstances, so far as they were known to the public, +concerning the death of the beautiful Miss Ena Garnier, and the +fact that Captain John Fowler, the accused officer, had refused +to defend himself on the occasion of the proceedings at the +police-court, had roused very general interest. This was +increased by the statement that, though he withheld his defence, +it would be found to be of a very novel and convincing +character. The assertion of the prisoner’s lawyer at +the police-court, to the effect that the answer to the charge was +such that it could not yet be given, but would be available +before the Assizes, also caused much speculation. A final +touch was given to the curiosity of the public when it was +learned that the prisoner had refused all offers of legal +assistance from counsel and was determined to conduct his own +defence. The case for the Crown was ably presented, and was +generally considered to be a very damning one, since it showed +very clearly that the accused was subject to fits of jealousy, +and that he had already been guilty of some violence owing to +<!-- page 185--><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>this cause. The prisoner listened to the evidence +without emotion, and neither interrupted nor cross-questioned the +witnesses. Finally, on being informed that the time had +come when he might address the jury, he stepped to the front of +the dock. He was a man of striking appearance, swarthy, +black-moustached, nervous, and virile, with a quietly confident +manner. Taking a paper from his pocket he read the +following statement, which made the deepest impression upon the +crowded court:—</p> +<p>I would wish to say, in the first place, gentlemen of the +jury, that, owing to the generosity of my brother +officers—for my own means are limited—I might have +been defended to-day by the first talent of the Bar. The +reason I have declined their assistance and have determined to +fight my own case is not that I have any confidence in my own +abilities or eloquence, but it is because I am convinced that a +plain, straightforward tale, coming direct from the man who has +been the tragic actor in this dreadful affair, will impress you +more than any indirect statement could do. If I had felt +that I were guilty I should have asked for help. Since, in +my own heart, I believe that I am innocent, I am pleading my own +cause, feeling that my plain words of truth and reason will have +more weight with you than the most learned and eloquent +advocate. <!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 186</span>By the indulgence of the Court I +have been permitted to put my remarks upon paper, so that I may +reproduce certain conversations and be assured of saying neither +more nor less than I mean.</p> +<p>It will be remembered that at the trial at the police-court +two months ago I refused to defend myself. This has been +referred to to-day as a proof of my guilt. I said that it +would be some days before I could open my mouth. This was +taken at the time as a subterfuge. Well, the days are over, +and I am now able to make clear to you not only what took place, +but also why it was impossible for me to give any +explanation. I will tell you now exactly what I did and why +it was that I did it. If you, my fellow-countrymen, think +that I did wrong, I will make no complaint, but will suffer in +silence any penalty which you may impose upon me.</p> +<p>I am a soldier of fifteen years’ standing, a captain in +the Second Breconshire Battalion. I have served in the +South African Campaign and was mentioned in despatches after the +battle of Diamond Hill. When the war broke out with Germany +I was seconded from my regiment, and I was appointed as adjutant +to the First Scottish Scouts, newly raised. The regiment +was quartered at Radchurch, in Essex, where the men were placed +partly in huts and were partly billeted upon the +inhabitants. All the officers <!-- page 187--><a +name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 187</span>were +billeted out, and my quarters were with Mr. Murreyfield, the +local squire. It was there that I first met Miss Ena +Garnier.</p> +<p>It may not seem proper at such a time and place as this that I +should describe that lady. And yet her personality is the +very essence of my case. Let me only say that I cannot +believe that Nature ever put into female form a more exquisite +combination of beauty and intelligence. She was twenty-five +years of age, blonde and tall, with a peculiar delicacy of +features and of expression. I have read of people falling +in love at first sight, and had always looked upon it as an +expression of the novelist. And yet from the moment that I +saw Ena Garnier life held for me but the one ambition—that +she should be mine. I had never dreamed before of the +possibilities of passion that were within me. I will not +enlarge upon the subject, but to make you understand my +action—for I wish you to comprehend it, however much you +may condemn it—you must realize that I was in the grip of a +frantic elementary passion which made, for a time, the world and +all that was in it seem a small thing if I could but gain the +love of this one girl. And yet, in justice to myself, I +will say that there was always one thing which I placed above +her. That was my honour as a soldier and a gentleman. +You will find it hard to believe this when I tell you what +occurred, <!-- page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 188</span>and yet—though for one moment +I forgot myself—my whole legal offence consists in my +desperate endeavour to retrieve what I had done.</p> +<p>I soon found that the lady was not insensible to the advances +which I made to her. Her position in the household was a +curious one. She had come a year before from Montpellier, +in the South of France, in answer to an advertisement from the +Murreyfields in order to teach French to their three young +children. She was, however, unpaid, so that she was rather +a friendly guest than an <i>employée</i>. She had +always, as I gathered, been fond of the English and desirous to +live in England, but the outbreak of the war had quickened her +feelings into passionate attachment, for the ruling emotion of +her soul was her hatred of the Germans. Her grandfather, as +she told me, had been killed under very tragic circumstances in +the campaign of 1870, and her two brothers were both in the +French army. Her voice vibrated with passion when she spoke +of the infamies of Belgium, and more than once I have seen her +kissing my sword and my revolver because she hoped they would be +used upon the enemy. With such feelings in her heart it can +be imagined that my wooing was not a difficult one. I +should have been glad to marry her at once, but to this she would +not consent. Everything was to come after the war, for it +was necessary, <!-- page 189--><a name="page189"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 189</span>she said, that I should go to +Montpellier and meet her people, so that the French proprieties +should be properly observed.</p> +<p>She had one accomplishment which was rare for a lady; she was +a skilled motor-cyclist. She had been fond of long, +solitary rides, but after our engagement I was occasionally +allowed to accompany her. She was a woman, however, of +strange moods and fancies, which added in my feelings to the +charm of her character. She could be tenderness itself, and +she could be aloof and even harsh in her manner. More than +once she had refused my company with no reason given, and with a +quick, angry flash of her eyes when I asked for one. Then, +perhaps, her mood would change and she would make up for this +unkindness by some exquisite attention which would in an instant +soothe all my ruffled feelings. It was the same in the +house. My military duties were so exacting that it was only +in the evenings that I could hope to see her, and yet very often +she remained in the little study which was used during the day +for the children’s lessons, and would tell me plainly that +she wished to be alone. Then, when she saw that I was hurt +by her caprice, she would laugh and apologize so sweetly for her +rudeness that I was more her slave than ever.</p> +<p>Mention has been made of my jealous disposition, and it has +been asserted at the trial <!-- page 190--><a +name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>that there +were scenes owing to my jealousy, and that once Mrs. Murreyfield +had to interfere. I admit that I was jealous. When a +man loves with the whole strength of his soul it is impossible, I +think, that he should be clear of jealousy. The girl was of +a very independent spirit. I found that she knew many +officers at Chelmsford and Colchester. She would disappear +for hours together upon her motor-cycle. There were +questions about her past life which she would only answer with a +smile unless they were closely pressed. Then the smile +would become a frown. Is it any wonder that I, with my +whole nature vibrating with passionate, whole-hearted love, was +often torn by jealousy when I came upon those closed doors of her +life which she was so determined not to open? Reason came +at times and whispered how foolish it was that I should stake my +whole life and soul upon one of whom I really knew nothing. +Then came a wave of passion once more and reason was +submerged.</p> +<p>I have spoken of the closed doors of her life. I was +aware that a young, unmarried Frenchwoman has usually less +liberty than her English sister. And yet in the case of +this lady it continually came out in her conversation that she +had seen and known much of the world. It was the more +distressing to me as whenever she had made an observation which +pointed to this she would afterwards, as I could plainly <!-- +page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +191</span>see, be annoyed by her own indiscretion, and endeavour +to remove the impression by every means in her power. We +had several small quarrels on this account, when I asked +questions to which I could get no answers, but they have been +exaggerated in the address for the prosecution. Too much +has been made also of the intervention of Mrs. Murreyfield, +though I admit that the quarrel was more serious upon that +occasion. It arose from my finding the photograph of a man +upon her table, and her evident confusion when I asked her for +some particulars about him. The name “H. +Vardin” was written underneath—evidently an +autograph. I was worried by the fact that this photograph +had the frayed appearance of one which has been carried secretly +about, as a girl might conceal the picture of her lover in her +dress. She absolutely refused to give me any information +about him, save to make a statement which I found incredible, +that it was a man whom she had never seen in her life. It +was then that I forgot myself. I raised my voice and +declared that I should know more about her life or that I should +break with her, even if my own heart should be broken in the +parting. I was not violent, but Mrs. Murreyfield heard me +from the passage, and came into the room to remonstrate. +She was a kind, motherly person who took a sympathetic interest +in our romance, <!-- page 192--><a name="page192"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 192</span>and I remember that on this occasion +she reproved me for my jealousy and finally persuaded me that I +had been unreasonable, so that we became reconciled once +more. Ena was so madly fascinating and I so hopelessly her +slave that she could always draw me back, however much prudence +and reason warned me to escape from her control. I tried +again and again to find out about this man Vardin, but was always +met by the same assurance, which she repeated with every kind of +solemn oath, that she had never seen the man in her life. +Why she should carry about the photograph of a man—a young, +somewhat sinister man, for I had observed him closely before she +snatched the picture from my hand—was what she either could +not, or would not, explain.</p> +<p>Then came the time for my leaving Radchurch. I had been +appointed to a junior but very responsible post at the War +Office, which, of course, entailed my living in London. +Even my week-ends found me engrossed with my work, but at last I +had a few days’ leave of absence. It is those few +days which have ruined my life, which have brought me the most +horrible experience that ever a man had to undergo, and have +finally placed me here in the dock, pleading as I plead to-day +for my life and my honour.</p> +<p>It is nearly five miles from the station to <!-- page 193--><a +name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +193</span>Radchurch. She was there to meet me. It was +the first time that we had been reunited since I had put all my +heart and my soul upon her. I cannot enlarge upon these +matters, gentlemen. You will either be able to sympathize +with and understand the emotions which overbalance a man at such +a time, or you will not. If you have imagination, you +will. If you have not, I can never hope to make you see +more than the bare fact. That bare fact, placed in the +baldest language, is that during this drive from Radchurch +Junction to the village I was led into the greatest +indiscretion—the greatest dishonour, if you will—of +my life. I told the woman a secret, an enormously important +secret, which might affect the fate of the war and the lives of +many thousands of men.</p> +<p>It was done before I knew it—before I grasped the way in +which her quick brain could place various scattered hints +together and weave them into one idea. She was wailing, +almost weeping, over the fact that the allied armies were held up +by the iron line of the Germans. I explained that it was +more correct to say that our iron line was holding them up, since +they were the invaders. “But is France, is Belgium, +<i>never</i> to be rid of them?” she cried. +“Are we simply to sit in front of their trenches and be +content to let them do what they will with ten provinces of +France? Oh, Jack, Jack, <!-- page 194--><a +name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 194</span>for +God’s sake, say something to bring a little hope to my +heart, for sometimes I think that it is breaking! You +English are stolid. You can bear these things. But we +others, we have more nerve, more soul! It is death to +us. Tell me! Do tell me that there is hope! And +yet it is foolish of me to ask, for, of course, you are only a +subordinate at the War Office, and how should you know what is in +the mind of your chiefs?”</p> +<p>“Well, as it happens, I know a good deal,” I +answered. “Don’t fret, for we shall certainly +get a move on soon.”</p> +<p>“Soon! Next year may seem soon to some +people.”</p> +<p>“It’s not next year.”</p> +<p>“Must we wait another month?”</p> +<p>“Not even that.”</p> +<p>She squeezed my hand in hers. “Oh, my darling boy, +you have brought such joy to my heart! What suspense I +shall live in now! I think a week of it would kill +me.”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps it won’t even be a week.”</p> +<p>“And tell me,” she went on, in her coaxing voice, +“tell me just one thing, Jack. Just one, and I will +trouble you no more. Is it our brave French soldiers who +advance? Or is it your splendid Tommies? With whom +will the honour lie?”</p> +<p>“With both.”</p> +<p><!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +195</span>“Glorious!” she cried. “I see +it all. The attack will be at the point where the French +and British lines join. Together they will rush forward in +one glorious advance.”</p> +<p>“No,” I said. “They will not be +together.”</p> +<p>“But I understood you to say—of course, women know +nothing of such matters, but I understood you to say that it +would be a joint advance.”</p> +<p>“Well, if the French advanced, we will say, at Verdun, +and the British advanced at Ypres, even if they were hundreds of +miles apart it would still be a joint advance.”</p> +<p>“Ah, I see,” she cried, clapping her hands with +delight. “They would advance at both ends of the +line, so that the Boches would not know which way to send their +reserves.”</p> +<p>“That is exactly the idea—a real advance at +Verdun, and an enormous feint at Ypres.”</p> +<p>Then suddenly a chill of doubt seized me. I can remember +how I sprang back from her and looked hard into her face. +“I’ve told you too much!” I cried. +“Can I trust you? I have been mad to say so +much.”</p> +<p>She was bitterly hurt by my words. That I should for a +moment doubt her was more than she could bear. “I +would cut my tongue out, Jack, before I would tell any human +being one word of what you have said.” So earnest was +she that my fears died away. I felt that I could <!-- page +196--><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>trust her utterly. Before we had reached +Radchurch I had put the matter from my mind, and we were lost in +our joy of the present and in our plans for the future.</p> +<p>I had a business message to deliver to Colonel Worral, who +commanded a small camp at Pedley-Woodrow. I went there and +was away for about two hours. When I returned I inquired +for Miss Garnier, and was told by the maid that she had gone to +her bedroom, and that she had asked the groom to bring her +motor-bicycle to the door. It seemed to me strange that she +should arrange to go out alone when my visit was such a short +one. I had gone into her little study to seek her, and here +it was that I waited, for it opened on to the hall passage, and +she could not pass without my seeing her.</p> +<p>There was a small table in the window of this room at which +she used to write. I had seated myself beside this when my +eyes fell upon a name written in her large, bold +hand-writing. It was a reversed impression upon the +blotting-paper which she had used, but there could be no +difficulty in reading it. The name was Hubert Vardin. +Apparently it was part of the address of an envelope, for +underneath I was able to distinguish the initials S.W., referring +to a postal division of London, though the actual name of the +street had not been clearly reproduced.</p> +<p>Then I knew for the first time that she was <!-- page 197--><a +name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>actually +corresponding with this man whose vile, voluptuous face I had +seen in the photograph with the frayed edges. She had +clearly lied to me, too, for was it conceivable that she should +correspond with a man whom she had never seen? I +don’t desire to condone my conduct. Put yourself in +my place. Imagine that you had my desperately fervid and +jealous nature. You would have done what I did, for you +could have done nothing else. A wave of fury passed over +me. I laid my hands upon the wooden writing-desk. If +it had been an iron safe I should have opened it. As it +was, it literally flew to pieces before me. There lay the +letter itself, placed under lock and key for safety, while the +writer prepared to take it from the house. I had no +hesitation or scruple, I tore it open. Dishonourable, you +will say, but when a man is frenzied with jealousy he hardly +knows what he does. This woman, for whom I was ready to +give everything, was either faithful to me or she was not. +At any cost I would know which.</p> +<p>A thrill of joy passed through me as my eyes fell upon the +first words. I had wronged her. “Cher Monsieur +Vardin.” So the letter began. It was clearly a +business letter, nothing else. I was about to replace it in +the envelope with a thousand regrets in my mind for my want of +faith when a single word at the bottom of the <!-- page 198--><a +name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>page caught +my eyes, and I started as if I had been stung by an adder. +“Verdun”—that was the word. I looked +again. “Ypres” was immediately below it. +I sat down, horror-stricken, by the broken desk, and I read this +letter, a translation of which I have in my hand:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Murreyfield House</span>, <span +class="smcap">Radchurch</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear M. Vardin</span>,—Stringer has +told me that he has kept you sufficiently informed as to +Chelmsford and Colchester, so I have not troubled to write. +They have moved the Midland Territorial Brigade and the heavy +guns towards the coast near Cromer, but only for a time. It +is for training, not embarkation.</p> +<p>And now for my great news, which I have straight from the War +Office itself. Within a week there is to be a very severe +attack from Verdun, which is to be supported by a holding attack +at Ypres. It is all on a very large scale, and you must +send off a special Dutch messenger to Von Starmer by the first +boat. I hope to get the exact date and some further +particulars from my informant to-night, but meanwhile you must +act with energy.</p> +<p>I dare not post this here—you know what village +postmasters are, so I am taking it into Colchester, where +Stringer will include it with his own report which goes by +hand.—Yours faithfully, <span class="smcap">Sophia +Heffner</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I was stunned at first as I read this letter, and then a kind +of cold, concentrated rage came over me. So this woman was +a German and a <!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 199</span>spy! I thought of her +hypocrisy and her treachery towards me, but, above all, I thought +of the danger to the Army and the State. A great defeat, +the death of thousands of men, might spring from my misplaced +confidence. There was still time, by judgment and energy, +to stop this frightful evil. I heard her step upon the +stairs outside, and an instant later she had come through the +doorway. She started, and her face was bloodless as she saw +me seated there with the open letter in my hand.</p> +<p>“How did you get that?” she gasped. +“How dared you break my desk and steal my +letter?”</p> +<p>I said nothing. I simply sat and looked at her and +pondered what I should do. She suddenly sprang forward and +tried to snatch the letter. I caught her wrist and pushed +her down on to the sofa, where she lay, collapsed. Then I +rang the bell, and told the maid that I must see Mr. Murreyfield +at once.</p> +<p>He was a genial, elderly man, who had treated this woman with +as much kindness as if she were his daughter. He was +horrified at what I said. I could not show him the letter +on account of the secret that it contained, but I made him +understand that it was of desperate importance.</p> +<p>“What are we to do?” he asked. “I +never could have imagined anything so dreadful. What would +you advise us to do?”</p> +<p>“There is only one thing that we can do,” <!-- +page 200--><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>I answered. “This woman must be arrested, +and in the meanwhile we must so arrange matters that she cannot +possibly communicate with any one. For all we know, she has +confederates in this very village. Can you undertake to +hold her securely while I go to Colonel Worral at Pedley and get +a warrant and a guard?”</p> +<p>“We can lock her in her bedroom.”</p> +<p>“You need not trouble,” said she. “I +give you my word that I will stay where I am. I advise you +to be careful, Captain Fowler. You’ve shown once +before that you are liable to do things before you have thought +of the consequence. If I am arrested all the world will +know that you have given away the secrets that were confided to +you. There is an end of your career, my friend. You +can punish me, no doubt. What about yourself?”</p> +<p>“I think,” said I, “you had best take her to +her bedroom.”</p> +<p>“Very good, if you wish it,” said she, and +followed us to the door. When we reached the hall she +suddenly broke away, dashed through the entrance, and made for +her motor-bicycle, which was standing there. Before she +could start we had both seized her. She stooped and made +her teeth meet in Murreyfield’s hand. With flashing +eyes and tearing fingers she was as fierce as a wild cat at +bay. It was with some difficulty that we mastered her, and +dragged her—<!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 201</span>almost carried her—up the +stairs. We thrust her into her room and turned the key, +while she screamed out abuse and beat upon the door inside.</p> +<p>“It’s a forty-foot drop into the garden,” +said Murreyfield, tying up his bleeding hand. +“I’ll wait here till you come back. I think we +have the lady fairly safe.”</p> +<p>“I have a revolver here,” said I. “You +should be armed.” I slipped a couple of cartridges +into it and held it out to him. “We can’t +afford to take chances. How do you know what friends she +may have?”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said he. “I have a stick +here, and the gardener is within call. Do you hurry off for +the guard, and I will answer for the prisoner.”</p> +<p>Having taken, as it seemed to me, every possible precaution, I +ran to give the alarm. It was two miles to Pedley, and the +colonel was out, which occasioned some delay. Then there +were formalities and a magistrate’s signature to be +obtained. A policeman was to serve the warrant, but a +military escort was to be sent in to bring back the +prisoner. I was so filled with anxiety and impatience that +I could not wait, but I hurried back alone with the promise that +they would follow.</p> +<p>The Pedley-Woodrow Road opens into the high-road to Colchester +at a point about half a mile from the village of Radchurch. +It was <!-- page 202--><a name="page202"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 202</span>evening now and the light was such +that one could not see more than twenty or thirty yards +ahead. I had proceeded only a very short way from the point +of junction when I heard, coming towards me, the roar of a +motor-cycle being ridden at a furious pace. It was without +lights, and close upon me. I sprang aside in order to avoid +being ridden down, and in that instant, as the machine flashed +by, I saw clearly the face of the rider. It was +she—the woman whom I had loved. She was hatless, her +hair streaming in the wind, her face glimmering white in the +twilight, flying through the night like one of the Valkyries of +her native land. She was past me like a flash and tore on +down the Colchester Road. In that instant I saw all that it +would mean if she could reach the town. If she once was +allowed to see her agent we might arrest him or her, but it would +be too late. The news would have been passed on. The +victory of the Allies and the lives of thousands of our soldiers +were at stake. Next instant I had pulled out the loaded +revolver and fired two shots after the vanishing figure, already +only a dark blur in the dusk. I heard a scream, the +crashing of the breaking cycle, and all was still.</p> +<p>I need not tell you more, gentlemen. You know the +rest. When I ran forward I found her lying in the +ditch. Both of my bullets had struck her. One of them +had penetrated her <!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>brain. I was still standing +beside her body when Murreyfield arrived, running breathlessly +down the road. She had, it seemed, with great courage and +activity scrambled down the ivy of the wall; only when he heard +the whirr of the cycle did he realize what had occurred. He +was explaining it to my dazed brain when the police and soldiers +arrived to arrest her. By the irony of fate it was me whom +they arrested instead.</p> +<p>It was urged at the trial in the police-court that jealousy +was the cause of the crime. I did not deny it, nor did I +put forward any witnesses to deny it. It was my desire that +they should believe it. The hour of the French advance had +not yet come, and I could not defend myself without producing the +letter which would reveal it. But now it is +over—gloriously over—and so my lips are unsealed at +last. I confess my fault—my very grievous +fault. But it is not that for which you are trying +me. It is for murder. I should have thought myself +the murderer of my own countrymen if I had let the woman +pass. These are the facts, gentlemen. I leave my +future in your hands. If you should absolve me I may say +that I have hopes of serving my country in a fashion which will +atone for this one great indiscretion, and will also, as I hope, +end for ever those terrible recollections which weigh me +down. If you condemn me, I am ready to face whatever you +may think fit to inflict.</p> +<h2><!-- page 204--><a name="page204"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 204</span>X. THREE OF THEM</h2> +<h3>I—A CHAT ABOUT CHILDREN, SNAKES, AND ZEBUS</h3> +<p>These little sketches are called “Three of Them,” +but there are really five, on and off the stage. There is +Daddy, a lumpish person with some gift for playing Indian games +when he is in the mood. He is then known as “The +Great Chief of the Leatherskin Tribe.” Then there is +my Lady Sunshine. These are the grown-ups, and don’t +really count. There remain the three, who need some +differentiating upon paper, though their little spirits are as +different in reality as spirits could be—all beautiful and +all quite different. The eldest is a boy of eight whom we +shall call “Laddie.” If ever there was a little +cavalier sent down ready-made it is he. His soul is the +most gallant, unselfish, innocent thing that ever God sent out to +get an extra polish upon earth. It dwells in a tall, +slight, well-formed body, graceful and agile, with a head and +face as clean-cut as if an old Greek cameo had come to life, and +a pair of innocent and yet wise grey <!-- page 205--><a +name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 205</span>eyes that +read and win the heart. He is shy and does not shine before +strangers. I have said that he is unselfish and +brave. When there is the usual wrangle about going to bed, +up he gets in his sedate way. “I will go +first,” says he, and off he goes, the eldest, that the +others may have the few extra minutes while he is in his +bath. As to his courage, he is absolutely lion-hearted +where he can help or defend any one else. On one occasion +Daddy lost his temper with Dimples (Boy Number 2), and, not +without very good provocation, gave him a tap on the side of the +head. Next instant he felt a butt down somewhere in the +region of his waist-belt, and there was an angry little red face +looking up at him, which turned suddenly to a brown mop of hair +as the butt was repeated. No one, not even Daddy, should +hit his little brother. Such was Laddie, the gentle and the +fearless.</p> +<p>Then there is Dimples. Dimples is nearly seven, and you +never saw a rounder, softer, dimplier face, with two great +roguish, mischievous eyes of wood-pigeon grey, which are +sparkling with fun for the most part, though they can look sad +and solemn enough at times. Dimples has the making of a big +man in him. He has depth and reserves in his tiny +soul. But on the surface he is a boy of boys, always in +innocent mischief. “I will now do mischuff,” he +occasionally announces, and is usually as good as <!-- page +206--><a name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +206</span>his word. He has a love and understanding of all +living creatures, the uglier and more slimy the better, treating +them all in a tender, fairylike fashion which seems to come from +some inner knowledge. He has been found holding a buttercup +under the mouth of a slug “to see if he likes +butter.” He finds creatures in an astonishing +way. Put him in the fairest garden, and presently he will +approach you with a newt, a toad, or a huge snail in his +custody. Nothing would ever induce him to hurt them, but he +gives them what he imagines to be a little treat and then +restores them to their homes. He has been known to speak +bitterly to the Lady when she has given orders that caterpillars +be killed if found upon the cabbages, and even the explanation +that the caterpillars were doing the work of what he calls +“the Jarmans” did not reconcile him to their +fate.</p> +<p>He has an advantage over Laddie, in that he suffers from no +trace of shyness and is perfectly friendly in an instant with any +one of every class of life, plunging straight into conversation +with some such remark as “Can your Daddy give a +war-whoop?” or “Were you ever chased by a +bear?” He is a sunny creature but combative +sometimes, when he draws down his brows, sets his eyes, his +chubby cheeks flush, and his lips go back from his almond-white +teeth. “I am Swankie the Berserker,” says he, +quoting out of <!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 207</span>his favourite “Erling the +Bold,” which Daddy reads aloud at bed-time. When he +is in this fighting mood he can even drive back Laddie, chiefly +because the elder is far too chivalrous to hurt him. If you +want to see what Laddie can really do, put the small gloves on +him and let him go for Daddy. Some of those hurricane +rallies of his would stop Daddy grinning if they could get home, +and he has to fall back off his stool in order to get away from +them.</p> +<p>If that latent power of Dimples should ever come out, how will +it be manifest? Surely in his imagination. Tell him a +story and the boy is lost. He sits with his little round, +rosy face immovable and fixed, while his eyes never budge from +those of the speaker. He sucks in everything that is weird +or adventurous or wild. Laddie is a rather restless soul, +eager to be up and doing; but Dimples is absorbed in the present +if there be something worth hearing to be heard. In height +he is half a head shorter than his brother, but rather more +sturdy in build. The power of his voice is one of his +noticeable characteristics. If Dimples is coming you know +it well in advance. With that physical gift upon the top of +his audacity, and his loquacity, he fairly takes command of any +place in which he may find himself, while Laddie, his soul too +noble for jealousy, becomes one of the laughing and admiring +audience.</p> +<p><!-- page 208--><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>Then there is Baby, a dainty elfin Dresden-china little +creature of five, as fair as an angel and as deep as a +well. The boys are but shallow, sparkling pools compared +with this little girl with her self-repression and dainty +aloofness. You know the boys, you never feel that you quite +know the girl. Something very strong and forceful seems to +be at the back of that wee body. Her will is +tremendous. Nothing can break or even bend it. Only +kind guidance and friendly reasoning can mould it. The boys +are helpless if she has really made up her mind. But this +is only when she asserts herself, and those are rare +occasions. As a rule she sits quiet, aloof, affable, keenly +alive to all that passes and yet taking no part in it save for +some subtle smile or glance. And then suddenly the +wonderful grey-blue eyes under the long black lashes will gleam +like coy diamonds, and such a hearty little chuckle will come +from her that every one else is bound to laugh out of +sympathy. She and Dimples are great allies and yet have +continual lovers’ quarrels. One night she would not +even include his name in her prayers. “God +bless—” every one else, but not a word of +Dimples. “Come, come, darling!” urged the +Lady. “Well, then, God bless horrid Dimples!” +said she at last, after she had named the cat, the goat, her +dolls, and her Wriggly.</p> +<p>That is a strange trait, the love for the Wriggly. <!-- +page 209--><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +209</span>It would repay thought from some scientific +brain. It is an old, faded, disused downy from her +cot. Yet go where she will, she must take Wriggly with +her. All her toys put together would not console her for +the absence of Wriggly. If the family go to the seaside, +Wriggly must come too. She will not sleep without the +absurd bundle in her arms. If she goes to a party she +insists upon dragging its disreputable folds along with her, one +end always projecting “to give it fresh air.” +Every phase of childhood represents to the philosopher something +in the history of the race. From the new-born baby which +can hang easily by one hand from a broomstick with its legs drawn +up under it, the whole evolution of mankind is re-enacted. +You can trace clearly the cave-dweller, the hunter, the +scout. What, then, does Wriggly represent? Fetish +worship—nothing else. The savage chooses some most +unlikely thing and adores it. This dear little savage +adores her Wriggly.</p> +<p>So now we have our three little figures drawn as clearly as a +clumsy pen can follow such subtle elusive creatures of mood and +fancy. We will suppose now that it is a summer evening, +that Daddy is seated smoking in his chair, that the Lady is +listening somewhere near, and that the three are in a tumbled +heap upon the bear-skin before the empty fireplace trying to +puzzle out the little problems of their tiny lives. When +<!-- page 210--><a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +210</span>three children play with a new thought it is like three +kittens with a ball, one giving it a pat and another a pat, as +they chase it from point to point. Daddy would interfere as +little as possible, save when he was called upon to explain or to +deny. It was usually wiser for him to pretend to be doing +something else. Then their talk was the more natural. +On this occasion, however, he was directly appealed to.</p> +<p>“Daddy!” asked Dimples.</p> +<p>“Yes, boy.”</p> +<p>“Do you fink that the roses know us?”</p> +<p>Dimples, in spite of his impish naughtiness, had a way of +looking such a perfectly innocent and delightfully kissable +little person that one felt he really might be a good deal nearer +to the sweet secrets of Nature than his elders. However, +Daddy was in a material mood.</p> +<p>“No, boy; how could the roses know us?”</p> +<p>“The big yellow rose at the corner of the gate knows +<i>me</i>.”</p> +<p>“How do you know that?”</p> +<p>“’Cause it nodded to me yesterday.”</p> +<p>Laddie roared with laughter.</p> +<p>“That was just the wind, Dimples.”</p> +<p>“No, it was not,” said Dimples, with +conviction. “There was none wind. Baby was +there. Weren’t you, Baby?”</p> +<p>“The wose knew us,” said Baby, gravely.</p> +<p>“Beasts know us,” said Laddie. “But +them <!-- page 211--><a name="page211"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 211</span>beasts run round and make +noises. Roses don’t make noises.”</p> +<p>“Yes, they do. They rustle.”</p> +<p>“Woses wustle,” said Baby.</p> +<p>“That’s not a living noise. That’s an +all-the-same noise. Different to Roy, who barks and makes +different noises all the time. Fancy the roses all +barkin’ at you. Daddy, will you tell us about +animals?”</p> +<p>That is one of the child stages which takes us back to the old +tribe life—their inexhaustible interest in animals, some +distant echo of those long nights when wild men sat round the +fires and peered out into the darkness, and whispered about all +the strange and deadly creatures who fought with them for the +lordship of the earth. Children love caves, and they love +fires and meals out of doors, and they love animal talk—all +relics of the far distant past.</p> +<p>“What is the biggest animal in South America, +Daddy?”</p> +<p>Daddy, wearily: “Oh, I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“I s’pose an elephant would be the +biggest?”</p> +<p>“No, boy; there are none in South America.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, a rhinoceros?”</p> +<p>“No, there are none.”</p> +<p>“Well, what is there, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Well, dear, there are jaguars. I suppose a jaguar +is the biggest.”</p> +<p>“Then it must be thirty-six feet long.”</p> +<p><!-- page 212--><a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +212</span>“Oh, no, boy; about eight or nine feet with his +tail.”</p> +<p>“But there are boa-constrictors in South America +thirty-six feet long.”</p> +<p>“That’s different.”</p> +<p>“Do you fink,” asked Dimples, with his big, +solemn, grey eyes wide open, “there was ever a +boa-’strictor forty-five feet long?”</p> +<p>“No, dear; I never heard of one.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps there was one, but you never heard of it. +Do you fink you would have heard of a boa-’strictor +forty-five feet long if there was one in South +America?”</p> +<p>“Well, there may have been one.”</p> +<p>“Daddy,” said Laddie, carrying on the +cross-examination with the intense earnestness of a child, +“could a boa-constrictor swallow any small +animal?”</p> +<p>“Yes, of course he could.”</p> +<p>“Could he swallow a jaguar?”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know about that. A jaguar is +a very large animal.”</p> +<p>“Well, then,” asked Dimples, “could a jaguar +swallow a boa-’strictor?”</p> +<p>“Silly ass,” said Laddie. “If a jaguar +was only nine feet long and the boa-constrictor was thirty-five +feet long, then there would be a lot sticking out of the +jaguar’s mouth. How could he swallow that?”</p> +<p>“He’d bite it off,” said Dimples. +“And then <!-- page 213--><a name="page213"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 213</span>another slice for supper and another +for breakfast—but, I say, Daddy, a ’stricter +couldn’t swallow a porkpine, could he? He would have +a sore throat all the way down.”</p> +<p>Shrieks of laughter and a welcome rest for Daddy, who turned +to his paper.</p> +<p>“Daddy!”</p> +<p>He put down his paper with an air of conscious virtue and lit +his pipe.</p> +<p>“Well, dear?”</p> +<p>“What’s the biggest snake you ever saw?”</p> +<p>“Oh, bother the snakes! I am tired of +them.”</p> +<p>But the children were never tired of them. Heredity +again, for the snake was the worst enemy of arboreal man.</p> +<p>“Daddy made soup out of a snake,” said +Laddie. “Tell us about that snake, Daddy.”</p> +<p>Children like a story best the fourth or fifth time, so it is +never any use to tell them that they know all about it. The +story which they can check and correct is their favourite.</p> +<p>“Well, dear, we got a viper and we killed it. Then +we wanted the skeleton to keep and we didn’t know how to +get it. At first we thought we would bury it, but that +seemed too slow. Then I had the idea to boil all the +viper’s flesh off its bones, and I got an old meat-tin and +we put the viper and some water into it and put it above the +fire.”</p> +<p>“You hung it on a hook, Daddy.”</p> +<p><!-- page 214--><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +214</span>“Yes, we hung it on the hook that they put the +porridge pot on in Scotland. Then just as it was turning +brown in came the farmer’s wife, and ran up to see what we +were cooking. When she saw the viper she thought we were +going to eat it. ‘Oh, you dirty divils!’ she +cried, and caught up the tin in her apron and threw it out of the +window.”</p> +<p>Fresh shrieks of laughter from the children, and Dimples +repeated “You dirty divil!” until Daddy had to clump +him playfully on the head.</p> +<p>“Tell us some more about snakes,” cried +Laddie. “Did you ever see a really dreadful +snake?”</p> +<p>“One that would turn you black and dead you in five +minutes?” said Dimples. It was always the most awful +thing that appealed to Dimples.</p> +<p>“Yes, I have seen some beastly creatures. Once in +the Sudan I was dozing on the sand when I opened my eyes and +there was a horrid creature like a big slug with horns, short and +thick, about a foot long, moving away in front of me.”</p> +<p>“What was it, Daddy?” Six eager eyes were +turned up to him.</p> +<p>“It was a death-adder. I expect that would dead +you in five minutes, Dimples, if it got a bite at you.”</p> +<p>“Did you kill it?”</p> +<p>“No; it was gone before I could get to it.”</p> +<p><!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +215</span>“Which is the horridest, Daddy—a snake or a +shark?”</p> +<p>“I’m not very fond of either!”</p> +<p>“Did you ever see a man eaten by sharks?”</p> +<p>“No, dear, but I was not so far off being eaten +myself.”</p> +<p>“Oo!” from all three of them.</p> +<p>“I did a silly thing, for I swam round the ship in water +where there are many sharks. As I was drying myself on the +deck I saw the high fin of a shark above the water a little way +off. It had heard the splashing and come up to look for +me.”</p> +<p>“Weren’t you frightened, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It made me feel rather cold.” +There was silence while Daddy saw once more the golden sand of +the African beach and the snow-white roaring surf, with the long, +smooth swell of the bar.</p> +<p>Children don’t like silences.</p> +<p>“Daddy,” said Laddie. “Do zebus +bite?”</p> +<p>“Zebus! Why, they are cows. No, of course +not.”</p> +<p>“But a zebu could butt with its horns.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, it could butt.”</p> +<p>“Do you think a zebu could fight a crocodile?”</p> +<p>“Well, I should back the crocodile.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“Well, dear, the crocodile has great teeth and would eat +the zebu.”</p> +<p><!-- page 216--><a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span>“But suppose the zebu came up when the crocodile +was not looking and butted it.”</p> +<p>“Well, that would be one up for the zebu. But one +butt wouldn’t hurt a crocodile.”</p> +<p>“No, one wouldn’t, would it? But the zebu +would keep on. Crocodiles live on sand-banks, don’t +they? Well, then, the zebu would come and live near the +sandbank too—just so far as the crocodile would never see +him. Then every time the crocodile wasn’t looking the +zebu would butt him. Don’t you think he would beat +the crocodile?”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps he would.”</p> +<p>“How long do you think it would take the zebu to beat +the crocodile?”</p> +<p>“Well, it would depend upon how often he got in his +butt.”</p> +<p>“Well, suppose he butted him once every three hours, +don’t you think—?”</p> +<p>“Oh, bother the zebu!”</p> +<p>“That’s what the crocodile would say,” cried +Laddie, clapping his hands.</p> +<p>“Well, I agree with the crocodile,” said +Daddy.</p> +<p>“And it’s time all good children were in +bed,” said the Lady as the glimmer of the nurse’s +apron was seen in the gloom.</p> +<h3>II—ABOUT CRICKET</h3> +<p>Supper was going on down below and all good children should +have been long ago in the land <!-- page 217--><a +name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 217</span>of +dreams. Yet a curious noise came from above.</p> +<p>“What on earth—?” asked Daddy.</p> +<p>“Laddie practising cricket,” said the Lady, with +the curious clairvoyance of motherhood. “He gets out +of bed to bowl. I do wish you would go up and speak +seriously to him about it, for it takes quite an hour off his +rest.”</p> +<p>Daddy departed upon his mission intending to be gruff, and my +word, he can be quite gruff when he likes! When he reached +the top of the stairs, however, and heard the noise still +continue, he walked softly down the landing and peeped in through +the half-opened door.</p> +<p>The room was dark save for a night-light. In the dim +glimmer he saw a little white-clad figure, slight and supple, +taking short steps and swinging its arm in the middle of the +room.</p> +<p>“Halloa!” said Daddy.</p> +<p>The white-clad figure turned and ran forward to him.</p> +<p>“Oh, Daddy, how jolly of you to come up!”</p> +<p>Daddy felt that gruffness was not quite so easy as it had +seemed.</p> +<p>“Look here! You get into bed!” he said, with +the best imitation he could manage.</p> +<p>“Yes, Daddy. But before I go, how is +this?” He sprang forward and the arm swung round +again in a swift and graceful gesture.</p> +<p><!-- page 218--><a name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +218</span>Daddy was a moth-eaten cricketer of sorts, and he took +it in with a critical eye.</p> +<p>“Good, Laddie. I like a high action. +That’s the real Spofforth swing.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Daddy, come and talk about cricket!” He +was pulled on the side of the bed, and the white figure dived +between the sheets.</p> +<p>“Yes; tell us about cwicket!” came a cooing voice +from the corner. Dimples was sitting up in his cot.</p> +<p>“You naughty boy! I thought one of you was asleep, +anyhow. I mustn’t stay. I keep you +awake.”</p> +<p>“Who was Popoff?” cried Laddie, clutching at his +father’s sleeve. “Was he a very good +bowler?”</p> +<p>“Spofforth was the best bowler that ever walked on to a +cricket-field. He was the great Australian Bowler and he +taught us a great deal.”</p> +<p>“Did he ever kill a dog?” from Dimples.</p> +<p>“No, boy. Why?”</p> +<p>“Because Laddie said there was a bowler so fast that his +ball went frue a coat and killed a dog.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s an old yarn. I heard that when I +was a little boy about some bowler whose name, I think, was +Jackson.”</p> +<p>“Was it a big dog?”</p> +<p>“No, no, son; it wasn’t a dog at all.”</p> +<p><!-- page 219--><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +219</span>“It was a cat,” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“No; I tell you it never happened.”</p> +<p>“But tell us about Spofforth,” cried Laddie. +Dimples, with his imaginative mind, usually wandered, while the +elder came eagerly back to the point. “Was he very +fast?”</p> +<p>“He could be very fast. I have heard cricketers +who had played against him say that his yorker—that is a +ball which is just short of a full pitch—was the fastest +ball in England. I have myself seen his long arm swing +round and the wicket go down before ever the batsman had time to +ground his bat.”</p> +<p>“Oo!” from both beds.</p> +<p>“He was a tall, thin man, and they called him the +Fiend. That means the Devil, you know.”</p> +<p>“And <i>was</i> he the Devil?”</p> +<p>“No, Dimples, no. They called him that because he +did such wonderful things with the ball.”</p> +<p>“Can the Devil do wonderful things with a +ball?”</p> +<p>Daddy felt that he was propagating devil-worship and hastened +to get to safer ground.</p> +<p>“Spofforth taught us how to bowl and Blackham taught us +how to keep wicket. When I was young we always had another +fielder, called the long-stop, who stood behind the +wicket-keeper. I used to be a thick, solid boy, so <!-- +page 220--><a name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>they put me as long-stop, and the balls used to bounce +off me, I remember, as if I had been a mattress.”</p> +<p>Delighted laughter.</p> +<p>“But after Blackham came wicket-keepers had to learn +that they were there to stop the ball. Even in good +second-class cricket there were no more long-stops. We soon +found plenty of good wicket-keeps—like Alfred Lyttelton and +MacGregor—but it was Blackham who showed us how. To +see Spofforth, all india-rubber and ginger, at one end bowling, +and Blackham, with his black beard over the bails waiting for the +ball at the other end, was worth living for, I can tell +you.”</p> +<p>Silence while the boys pondered over this. But Laddie +feared Daddy would go, so he quickly got in a question. If +Daddy’s memory could only be kept going there was no saying +how long they might keep him.</p> +<p>“Was there no good bowler until Spofforth +came?”</p> +<p>“Oh, plenty, my boy. But he brought something new +with him. Especially change of pace—you could never +tell by his action up to the last moment whether you were going +to get a ball like a flash of lightning, or one that came slow +but full of devil and spin. But for mere command of the +pitch of a ball I should think Alfred Shaw, of Nottingham, was +the greatest bowler <!-- page 221--><a name="page221"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 221</span>I can remember. It was said +that he could pitch a ball twice in three times upon a +half-crown!”</p> +<p>“Oo!” And then from Dimples:—</p> +<p>“Whose half-crown?”</p> +<p>“Well, anybody’s half-crown.”</p> +<p>“Did he get the half-crown?”</p> +<p>“No, no; why should he?”</p> +<p>“Because he put the ball on it.”</p> +<p>“The half-crown was kept there always for people to aim +at,” explained Laddie.</p> +<p>“No, no, there never was a half-crown.”</p> +<p>Murmurs of remonstrance from both boys.</p> +<p>“I only meant that he could pitch the ball on +anything—a half-crown or anything else.”</p> +<p>“Daddy,” with the energy of one who has a happy +idea, “could he have pitched it on the batsman’s +toe?”</p> +<p>“Yes, boy, I think so.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, suppose he <i>always</i> pitched it on the +batsman’s toe!”</p> +<p>Daddy laughed.</p> +<p>“Perhaps that is why dear old W. G. always stood with +his left toe cocked up in the air.”</p> +<p>“On one leg?”</p> +<p>“No, no, Dimples. With his heel down and his toe +up.”</p> +<p>“Did you know W. G., Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, I knew him quite well.”</p> +<p>“Was he nice?”</p> +<p><!-- page 222--><a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +222</span>“Yes, he was splendid. He was always like a +great jolly schoolboy who was hiding behind a huge black +beard.”</p> +<p>“Whose beard?”</p> +<p>“I meant that he had a great bushy beard. He +looked like the pirate chief in your picture-books, but he had as +kind a heart as a child. I have been told that it was the +terrible things in this war that really killed him. Grand +old W. G.!”</p> +<p>“Was he the best bat in the world, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Of course he was,” said Daddy, beginning to +enthuse to the delight of the clever little plotter in the +bed. “There never was such a bat—never in the +world—and I don’t believe there ever could be +again. He didn’t play on smooth wickets, as they do +now. He played where the wickets were all patchy, and you +had to watch the ball right on to the bat. You +couldn’t look at it before it hit the ground and think, +‘That’s all right. I know where that one will +be!’ My word, that was cricket. What you got +you earned.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever see W. G. make a hundred, +Daddy?”</p> +<p>“See him! I’ve fielded out for him and +melted on a hot August day while he made a hundred and +fifty. There’s a pound or two of your Daddy somewhere +on that field yet. But I loved to see it, and I was always +sorry when he got out <!-- page 223--><a name="page223"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 223</span>for nothing, even if I were playing +against him.”</p> +<p>“Did he ever get out for nothing?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear; the first time I ever played in his company +he was given out leg-before-wicket before he made a run. +And all the way to the pavilion—that’s where people +go when they are out—he was walking forward, but his big +black beard was backward over his shoulder as he told the umpire +what he thought.”</p> +<p>“And what <i>did</i> he think?”</p> +<p>“More than I can tell you, Dimples. But I dare say +he was right to be annoyed, for it was a left-handed bowler, +bowling round the wicket, and it is very hard to get leg-before +to that. However, that’s all Greek to you.”</p> +<p>“What’s Gweek?”</p> +<p>“Well, I mean you can’t understand that. Now +I am going.”</p> +<p>“No, no, Daddy; wait a moment! Tell us about +Bonner and the big catch.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you know about that!”</p> +<p>Two little coaxing voices came out of the darkness.</p> +<p>“Oh, please! Please!”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what your mother will say! +What was it you asked?”</p> +<p>“Bonner!”</p> +<p>“Ah, Bonner!” Daddy looked out in the gloom +and saw green fields and golden sunlight, <!-- page 224--><a +name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 224</span>and great +sportsmen long gone to their rest. “Bonner was a +wonderful man. He was a giant in size.”</p> +<p>“As big as you, Daddy?”</p> +<p>Daddy seized his elder boy and shook him playfully. +“I heard what you said to Miss Cregan the other day. +When she asked you what an acre was you said ‘About the +size of Daddy.’”</p> +<p>Both boys gurgled.</p> +<p>“But Bonner was five inches taller than I. He was +a giant, I tell you.”</p> +<p>“Did nobody kill him?”</p> +<p>“No, no, Dimples. Not a story-book giant. +But a great, strong man. He had a splendid figure and blue +eyes and a golden beard, and altogether he was the finest man I +have ever seen—except perhaps one.”</p> +<p>“Who was the one, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Well, it was the Emperor Frederick of +Germany.”</p> +<p>“A Jarman!” cried Dimples, in horror.</p> +<p>“Yes, a German. Mind you, boys, a man may be a +very noble man and be a German—though what has become of +the noble ones these last three years is more than I can +guess. But Frederick was noble and good, as you could see +on his face. How he ever came to be the father of such a +blasphemous braggart”—Daddy sank into reverie.</p> +<p>“Bonner, Daddy!” said Laddie, and Daddy came back +from politics with a start.</p> +<p><!-- page 225--><a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +225</span>“Oh, yes, Bonner. Bonner in white flannels +on the green sward with an English June sun upon him. That +was a picture of a man! But you asked me about the +catch. It was in a test match at the Oval—England +against Australia. Bonner said before he went in that he +would hit Alfred Shaw into the next county, and he set out to do +it. Shaw, as I have told you, could keep a very good +length, so for some time Bonner could not get the ball he wanted, +but at last he saw his chance, and he jumped out and hit that +ball the most awful ker-wallop that ever was seen in a +cricket-field.”</p> +<p>“Oo!” from both boys: and then, “Did it go +into the next county, Daddy?” from Dimples.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m telling you!” said Daddy, who was +always testy when one of his stories was interrupted. +“Bonner thought he had made the ball a +half-volley—that is the best ball to hit—but Shaw had +deceived him and the ball was really on the short side. So +when Bonner hit it, up and up it went, until it looked as if it +were going out of sight into the sky.”</p> +<p>“Oo!”</p> +<p>“At first everybody thought it was going far outside the +ground. But soon they saw that all the giant’s +strength had been wasted in hitting the ball so high, and that +there was a chance that it would fall within the ropes. The +batsmen had run three runs and it was still in the air. +Then it <!-- page 226--><a name="page226"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 226</span>was seen that an English fielder was +standing on the very edge of the field with his back on the +ropes, a white figure against the black line of the people. +He stood watching the mighty curve of the ball, and twice he +raised his hands together above his head as he did so. Then +a third time he raised his hands above his head, and the ball was +in them and Bonner was out.”</p> +<p>“Why did he raise his hands twice?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. He did so.”</p> +<p>“And who was the fielder, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“The fielder was G. F. Grace, the younger brother of W. +G. Only a few months afterwards he was a dead man. +But he had one grand moment in his life, with twenty thousand +people all just mad with excitement. Poor G. F.! He +died too soon.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever catch a catch like that, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“No, boy. I was never a particularly good +fielder.”</p> +<p>“Did you never catch a good catch?”</p> +<p>“Well, I won’t say that. You see, the best +catches are very often flukes, and I remember one awful fluke of +that sort.”</p> +<p>“Do tell us, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“Well, dear, I was fielding at slip. That is very +near the wicket, you know. Woodcock was bowling, and he had +the name of being the fastest bowler of England at that +time. It was just the beginning of the match and the ball +was quite <!-- page 227--><a name="page227"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 227</span>red. Suddenly I saw something +like a red flash and there was the ball stuck in my left +hand. I had not time to move it. It simply came and +stuck.”</p> +<p>“Oo!”</p> +<p>“I saw another catch like that. It was done by +Ulyett, a fine Yorkshire player—such a big, upstanding +fellow. He was bowling, and the batsman—it was an +Australian in a test match—hit as hard as ever he +could. Ulyett could not have seen it, but he just stuck out +his hand and there was the ball.”</p> +<p>“Suppose it had hit his body?”</p> +<p>“Well, it would have hurt him.”</p> +<p>“Would he have cried?” from Dimples.</p> +<p>“No, boy. That is what games are for, to teach you +to take a knock and never show it. Supposing +that—”</p> +<p>A step was heard coming along the passage.</p> +<p>“Good gracious, boys, here’s Mumty. Shut +your eyes this moment. It’s all right, dear. I +spoke to them very severely and I think they are nearly +asleep.”</p> +<p>“What have you been talking about?” asked the +Lady.</p> +<p>“Cwicket!” cried Dimples.</p> +<p>“It’s natural enough,” said Daddy; “of +course when two boys—”</p> +<p>“Three,” said the Lady, as she tucked up the +little beds.</p> +<h3><!-- page 228--><a name="page228"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 228</span>III—SPECULATIONS</h3> +<p>The three children were sitting together in a bunch upon the +rug in the gloaming. Baby was talking so Daddy behind his +newspaper pricked up his ears, for the young lady was silent as a +rule, and every glimpse of her little mind was of interest. +She was nursing the disreputable little downy quilt which she +called Wriggly and much preferred to any of her dolls.</p> +<p>“I wonder if they will let Wriggly into heaven,” +she said.</p> +<p>The boys laughed. They generally laughed at what Baby +said.</p> +<p>“If they won’t I won’t go in, either,” +she added.</p> +<p>“Nor me, neither, if they don’t let in my +Teddy-bear,” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell them it is a nice, clean, blue +Wriggly,” said Baby. “I love my +Wriggly.” She cooed over it and hugged it.</p> +<p>“What about that, Daddy?” asked Laddie, in his +earnest fashion. “Are there toys in heaven, do you +think?”</p> +<p>“Of course there are. Everything that can make +children happy.”</p> +<p>“As many toys as in Hamley’s shop?” asked +Dimples.</p> +<p>“More,” said Daddy, stoutly.</p> +<p>“Oo!” from all three.</p> +<p><!-- page 229--><a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +229</span>“Daddy, dear,” said Laddie. +“I’ve been wondering about the deluge.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear. What was it?”</p> +<p>“Well, the story about the Ark. All those animals +were in the Ark, just two of each, for forty days. +Wasn’t that so?”</p> +<p>“That is the story.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, what did the carnivorous animals +eat?”</p> +<p>One should be honest with children and not put them off with +ridiculous explanations. Their questions about such matters +are generally much more sensible than their parents’ +replies.</p> +<p>“Well, dear,” said Daddy, weighing his words, +“these stories are very, very old. The Jews put them +in the Bible, but they got them from the people in Babylon, and +the people in Babylon probably got them from some one else away +back in the beginning of things. If a story gets passed +down like that, one person adds a little and another adds a +little, and so you never get things quite as they happened. +The Jews put it in the Bible exactly as they heard it, but it had +been going about for thousands of years before then.”</p> +<p>“So it was not true?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I think it was true. I think there was a +great flood, and I think that some people did escape, and that +they saved their beasts, just as we should try to save Nigger and +the Monkstown cocks and hens if we were flooded <!-- page +230--><a name="page230"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +230</span>out. Then they were able to start again when the +waters went down, and they were naturally very grateful to God +for their escape.”</p> +<p>“What did the people who didn’t escape think about +it?”</p> +<p>“Well, we can’t tell that.”</p> +<p>“They wouldn’t be very grateful, would +they?”</p> +<p>“Their time was come,” said Daddy, who was a bit +of a Fatalist. “I expect it was the best +thing.”</p> +<p>“It was jolly hard luck on Noah being swallowed by a +fish after all his trouble,” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“Silly ass! It was Jonah that was swallowed. +Was it a whale, Daddy?”</p> +<p>“A whale! Why, a whale couldn’t swallow a +herring!”</p> +<p>“A shark, then?”</p> +<p>“Well, there again you have an old story which has got +twisted and turned a good deal. No doubt he was a holy man +who had some great escape at sea, and then the sailors and others +who admired him invented this wonder.”</p> +<p>“Daddy,” said Dimples, suddenly, “should we +do just the same as Jesus did?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear; He was the noblest Person that ever +lived.”</p> +<p>“Well, did Jesus lie down every day from twelve to +one?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that He did.”</p> +<p><!-- page 231--><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>“Well, then, I won’t lie down from twelve +to one.”</p> +<p>“If Jesus had been a growing boy and had been ordered to +lie down by His Mumty and the doctor, I am sure He would have +done so.”</p> +<p>“Did He take malt extract?”</p> +<p>“He did what He was told, my son—I am sure of +that. He was a good man, so He must have been a good +boy—perfect in all He did.”</p> +<p>“Baby saw God yesterday,” remarked Laddie, +casually.</p> +<p>Daddy dropped his paper.</p> +<p>“Yes, we made up our minds we would all lie on our backs +and stare at the sky until we saw God. So we put the big +rug on the lawn and then we all lay down side by side, and stared +and stared. I saw nothing, and Dimples saw nothing, but +Baby says she saw God.”</p> +<p>Baby nodded in her wise way.</p> +<p>“I saw Him,” she said.</p> +<p>“What was He like, then?”</p> +<p>“Oh, just God.”</p> +<p>She would say no more, but hugged her Wriggly.</p> +<p>The Lady had entered and listened with some trepidation to the +frank audacity of the children’s views. Yet the very +essence of faith was in that audacity. It was all so +unquestionably real.</p> +<p>“Which is strongest, Daddy, God or the +Devil?” It was Laddie who was speculating now.</p> +<p><!-- page 232--><a name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +232</span>“Why, God rules everything, of course.”</p> +<p>“Then why doesn’t He kill the Devil?”</p> +<p>“And scalp him?” added Dimples.</p> +<p>“That would stop all trouble, wouldn’t it, +Daddy?”</p> +<p>Poor Daddy was rather floored. The Lady came to his +help.</p> +<p>“If everything was good and easy in this world, then +there would be nothing to fight against, and so, Laddie, our +characters would never improve.”</p> +<p>“It would be like a football match with all the players +on one side,” said Daddy.</p> +<p>“If there was nothing bad, then, nothing would be good, +for you would have nothing to compare by,” added the +Lady.</p> +<p>“Well, then,” said Laddie, with the remorseless +logic of childhood, “if that is so, then the Devil is very +useful; so he can’t be so very bad, after all.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t see that,” Daddy +answered. “Our Army can only show how brave it is by +fighting the German Emperor, but that does not prove that the +German Emperor is a very nice person, does it now?</p> +<p>“Besides,” Daddy continued, improving the +occasion, “you must not think of the Devil as a +person. You must think of all the mean things one could do, +and all the dirty things, and all the cruel things, and that is +really the <!-- page 233--><a name="page233"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 233</span>Devil you are fighting +against. You couldn’t call them useful, could +you?”</p> +<p>The children thought over this for a little.</p> +<p>“Daddy,” said Laddie, “have <i>you</i> ever +seen God?”</p> +<p>“No, my boy. But I see His works. I expect +that is as near as we can get in this world. Look at all +the stars at night, and think of the Power that made them and +keeps each in its proper place.”</p> +<p>“He couldn’t keep the shooting stars in their +proper place,” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“I expect He meant them to shoot,” said +Laddie.</p> +<p>“Suppose they all shot, what jolly nights we should +have!” cried Dimples.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Laddie; “but after one night +they would all have gone, and a nice thing then!”</p> +<p>“Well, there’s always the moon,” remarked +Dimples. “But, Daddy, is it true that God listens to +all we say?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know about that,” Daddy answered, +cautiously. You never know into what trap those quick +little wits may lead you. The Lady was more rash, or more +orthodox.</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, He does hear all you say.”</p> +<p>“Is He listenin’ now?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear.”</p> +<p>“Well, I call it vewy rude of Him!”</p> +<p>Daddy smiled, and the Lady gasped.</p> +<p><!-- page 234--><a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +234</span>“It isn’t rude,” said Laddie. +“It is His duty, and He <i>has</i> to notice what you are +doing and saying. Daddy, did you ever see a +fairy?”</p> +<p>“No, boy.”</p> +<p>“I saw one once.”</p> +<p>Laddie is the very soul of truth, quite painfully truthful in +details, so that his quiet remark caused attention.</p> +<p>“Tell us about it, dear.”</p> +<p>He described it with as little emotion as if it were a Persian +cat. Perhaps his perfect faith had indeed opened something +to his vision.</p> +<p>“It was in the day nursery. There was a stool by +the window. The fairy jumped on the stool and then down, +and went across the room.”</p> +<p>“What was it dressed like?”</p> +<p>“All in grey, with a long cloak. It was about as +big as Baby’s doll. I could not see its arms, for +they were under the cloak.”</p> +<p>“Did he look at you?”</p> +<p>“No, he was sideways, and I never really saw his +face. He had a little cap. That’s the only +fairy I ever saw. Of course, there was Father Christmas, if +you call him a fairy.”</p> +<p>“Daddy, was Father Christmas killed in the +war?”</p> +<p>“No, boy.”</p> +<p>“Because he has never come since the war began. I +expect he is fightin’ the Jarmans.” It was +Dimples who was talking.</p> +<p><!-- page 235--><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>“Last time he came,” said Laddie, +“Daddy said one of his reindeers had hurt its leg in the +ruts of the Monkstown Lane. Perhaps that’s why he +never comes.”</p> +<p>“He’ll come all right after the war,” said +Daddy, “and he’ll be redder and whiter and jollier +than ever.” Then Daddy clouded suddenly, for he +thought of all those who would be missing when Father Christmas +came again. Ten loved ones were dead from that one +household. The Lady put out her hand, for she always knew +what Daddy was thinking.</p> +<p>“They will be there in spirit, dear.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and the jolliest of the lot,” said Daddy, +stoutly. “We’ll have our Father Christmas back +and all will be well in England.”</p> +<p>“But what do they do in India?” asked Laddie.</p> +<p>“Why, what’s wrong with them?”</p> +<p>“How do the sledge and the reindeer get across the +sea? All the parcels must get wet.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, there <i>have</i> been several +complaints,” said Daddy, gravely. “Halloa, +here’s nurse! Time’s up! Off to +bed!”</p> +<p>They got up resignedly, for they were really very good +children. “Say your prayers here before you +go,” said the Lady. The three little figures all +knelt on the rug, Baby still cuddling her Wriggly.</p> +<p>“You pray, Laddie, and the rest can join in.”</p> +<p><!-- page 236--><a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +236</span>“God bless every one I love,” said the +high, clear child-voice. “And make me a good boy, and +thank You so much for all the blessings of to-day. And +please take care of Alleyne, who is fighting the Germans, and +Uncle Cosmo, who is fighting the Germans, and Uncle Woodie, who +is fighting the Germans, and all the others who are fighting the +Germans, and the men on the ships on the sea, and Grandma and +Grandpa, and Uncle Pat, and don’t ever let Daddy and Mumty +die. That’s all.”</p> +<p>“And please send plenty sugar for the poor +people,” said Baby, in her unexpected way.</p> +<p>“And a little petrol for Daddy,” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“Amen!” said Daddy. And the little figures +rose for the good-night kiss.</p> +<h3>IV—THE LEATHERSKIN TRIBE</h3> +<p>“Daddy!” said the elder boy. “Have you +seen wild Indians?”</p> +<p>“Yes, boy.”</p> +<p>“Have you ever scalped one?”</p> +<p>“Good gracious, no.”</p> +<p>“Has one ever scalped you?” asked Dimples.</p> +<p>“Silly!” said Laddie. “If Daddy had +been scalped he wouldn’t have all that hair on his +head—unless perhaps it grew again!”</p> +<p>“He has none hair on the very top,” said Dimples, +hovering over the low chair in which Daddy was sitting.</p> +<p><!-- page 237--><a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +237</span>“They didn’t scalp you, did they, +Daddy?” asked Laddie, with some anxiety.</p> +<p>“I expect Nature will scalp me some of these +days.”</p> +<p>Both boys were keenly interested. Nature presented +itself as some rival chief.</p> +<p>“When?” asked Dimples, eagerly, with the evident +intention of being present.</p> +<p>Daddy passed his fingers ruefully through his thinning +locks. “Pretty soon, I expect,” said he.</p> +<p>“Oo!” said the three children. Laddie was +resentful and defiant, but the two younger ones were obviously +delighted.</p> +<p>“But I say, Daddy, you said we should have an Indian +game after tea. You said it when you wanted us to be so +quiet after breakfast. You promised, you know.”</p> +<p>It doesn’t do to break a promise to children. +Daddy rose somewhat wearily from his comfortable chair and put +his pipe on the mantelpiece. First he held a conference in +secret with Uncle Pat, the most ingenious of playmates. +Then he returned to the children. “Collect the +tribe,” said he. “There is a Council in a +quarter of an hour in the big room. Put on your Indian +dresses and arm yourselves. The great Chief will be +there!”</p> +<p>Sure enough when he entered the big room a quarter of an hour +later the tribe of the Leatherskins had assembled. There +were four of them, <!-- page 238--><a name="page238"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 238</span>for little rosy Cousin John from +next door always came in for an Indian game. They had all +Indian dresses with high feathers and wooden clubs or +tomahawks. Daddy was in his usual untidy tweeds, but +carried a rifle. He was very serious when he entered the +room, for one should be very serious in a real good Indian +game. Then he raised his rifle slowly over his head in +greeting and the four childish voices rang out in the +war-cry. It was a prolonged wolfish howl which Dimples had +been known to offer to teach elderly ladies in hotel +corridors. “You can’t be in our tribe without +it, you know. There is none body about. Now just try +once if you can do it.” At this moment there are +half-a-dozen elderly people wandering about England who have been +made children once more by Laddie and Dimples.</p> +<p>“Hail to the tribe!” cried Daddy.</p> +<p>“Hail, Chief!” answered the voices.</p> +<p>“Red Buffalo!”</p> +<p>“Here!” cried Laddie.</p> +<p>“Black Bear!”</p> +<p>“Here!” cried Dimples.</p> +<p>“White Butterfly!”</p> +<p>“Go on, you silly squaw!” growled Dimples.</p> +<p>“Here,” said Baby.</p> +<p>“Prairie Wolf!”</p> +<p>“Here,” said little four-year-old John.</p> +<p>“The muster is complete. Make a circle <!-- page +239--><a name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +239</span>round the camp-fire and we shall drink the firewater of +the Palefaces and smoke the pipe of peace.”</p> +<p>That was a fearsome joy. The fire-water was ginger-ale +drunk out of the bottle, which was gravely passed from hand to +hand. At no other time had they ever drunk like that, and +it made an occasion of it which was increased by the owlish +gravity of Daddy. Then he lit his pipe and it was passed +also from one tiny hand to another, Laddie taking a hearty suck +at it, which set him coughing, while Baby only touched the end of +the amber with her little pink lips. There was dead silence +until it had gone round and returned to its owner.</p> +<p>“Warriors of the Leatherskins, why have we come +here?” asked Daddy, fingering his rifle.</p> +<p>“Humpty Dumpty,” said little John, and the +children all began to laugh, but the portentous gravity of Daddy +brought them back to the warrior mood.</p> +<p>“The Prairie Wolf has spoken truly,” said +Daddy. “A wicked Paleface called Humpty Dumpty has +taken the prairies which once belonged to the Leatherskins and is +now camped upon them and hunting our buffaloes. What shall +be his fate? Let each warrior speak in turn.”</p> +<p>“Tell him he has jolly well got to clear out,” +said Laddie.</p> +<p>“That’s not Indian talk,” cried Dimples, +<!-- page 240--><a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +240</span>with all his soul in the game. “Kill him, +great Chief—him and his squaw, too.” The two +younger warriors merely laughed and little John repeated +“Humpty Dumpty!”</p> +<p>“Quite right! Remember the villain’s +name!” said Daddy. “Now, then, the whole tribe +follows me on the war-trail and we shall teach this Paleface to +shoot our buffaloes.”</p> +<p>“Look here, we don’t want squaws,” cried +Dimples, as Baby toddled at the rear of the procession. +“You stay in the wigwam and cook.”</p> +<p>A piteous cry greeted the suggestion.</p> +<p>“The White Butterfly will come with us and bind up the +wounds,” said Daddy.</p> +<p>“The squaws are jolly good as torturers,” remarked +Laddie.</p> +<p>“Really, Daddy, this strikes me as a most immoral +game,” said the Lady, who had been a sympathetic spectator +from a corner, doubtful of the ginger-ale, horrified at the pipe, +and delighted at the complete absorption of the children.</p> +<p>“Rather!” said the great Chief, with a sad relapse +into the normal. “I suppose that is why they love it +so. Now, then, warriors, we go forth on the +war-trail. One whoop all together before we start. +Capital! Follow me, now, one behind the other. Not a +sound! If one gets separated from the others let him give +the cry of a night owl and the others will answer with the squeak +of the prairie lizard.”</p> +<p><!-- page 241--><a name="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +241</span>“What sort of a squeak, please?”</p> +<p>“Oh, any old squeak will do. You don’t +walk. Indians trot on the war-path. If you see any +man hiding in a bush kill him at once, but don’t stop to +scalp him—”</p> +<p>“Really, dear!” from the corner.</p> +<p>“The great Queen would rather that you scalp him. +Now, then! All ready! Start!”</p> +<p>Away went the line of figures, Daddy stooping with his rifle +at the trail, Laddie and Dimples armed with axes and toy pistols, +as tense and serious as any Redskins could be. The other +two rather more irresponsible but very much absorbed all the +same. The little line of absurd figures wound in and out of +the furniture, and out on to the lawn, and round the laurel +bushes, and into the yard, and back to the clump of trees. +There Daddy stopped and held up his hand with a face that froze +the children.</p> +<p>“Are all here?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes.”</p> +<p>“Hush, warriors! No sound. There is an enemy +scout in the bushes ahead. Stay with me, you two. +You, Red Buffalo, and you, Black Bear, crawl forward and settle +him. See that he makes no sound. What you do must be +quick and sudden. When all is clear give the cry of the +wood-pigeon, and we will join you.”</p> +<p>The two warriors crawled off in most desperate earnest. +Daddy leaned on his gun and winked <!-- page 242--><a +name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 242</span>at the +Lady, who still hovered fearfully in the background like a dear +hen whose chickens were doing wonderful and unaccountable +things. The two younger Indians slapped each other and +giggled. Presently there came the “coo” of a +wood-pigeon from in front. Daddy and the tribe moved +forward to where the advance guard were waiting in the +bushes.</p> +<p>“Great Chief, we could find no scout,” said +Laddie.</p> +<p>“There was none person to kill,” added +Dimples.</p> +<p>The Chief was not surprised, since the scout had been entirely +of his own invention. It would not do to admit it, +however.</p> +<p>“Have you found his trail?” he asked.</p> +<p>“No, Chief.”</p> +<p>“Let me look.” Daddy hunted about with a +look of preternatural sagacity about him. “Before the +snows fell a man passed here with a red head, grey clothes, and a +squint in his left eye. His trail shows that his brother +has a grocer’s shop and his wife smokes cigarettes on the +sly.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Daddy, how could you read all that?”</p> +<p>“It’s easy enough, my son, when you get the knack +of it. But look here, we are Indians on the war-trail, and +don’t you forget it if you value your scalp! Aha, +here is Humpty Dumpty’s trail!”</p> +<p><!-- page 243--><a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +243</span>Uncle Pat had laid down a paper trail from this point, +as Daddy well knew; so now the children were off like a little +pack of eager harriers, following in and out among the +bushes. Presently they had a rest.</p> +<p>“Great Chief, why does a wicked Paleface leave paper +wherever he goes?”</p> +<p>Daddy made a great effort.</p> +<p>“He tears up the wicked letters he has written. +Then he writes others even wickeder and tears them up in +turn. You can see for yourself that he leaves them wherever +he goes. Now, warriors, come along!”</p> +<p>Uncle Pat had dodged all over the limited garden, and the +tribe followed his trail. Finally they stopped at a gap in +the hedge which leads into the field. There was a little +wooden hut in the field, where Daddy used to go and put up a +printed cardboard: “WORKING.” He found it a +very good dodge when he wanted a quiet smoke and a nap. +Usually there was nothing else in the field, but this time the +Chief pushed the whole tribe hurriedly behind the hedge, and +whispered to them to look carefully out between the branches.</p> +<p>In the middle of the field a tripod of sticks supported a +kettle. At each side of it was a hunched-up figure in a +coloured blanket. Uncle Pat had done his work skilfully and +well.</p> +<p>“You must get them before they can reach <!-- page +244--><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>their rifles,” said the Chief. “What +about their horses? Black Bear, move down the hedge and +bring back word about their horses. If you see none give +three whistles.”</p> +<p>The whistles were soon heard, and the warrior returned.</p> +<p>“If the horses had been there, what would you have +done?”</p> +<p>“Scalped them!” said Dimples.</p> +<p>“Silly ass!” said Laddie. “Who ever +heard of a horse’s scalp? You would stampede +them.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said the Chief. “If ever +you see a horse grazing, you crawl up to it, spring on its back +and then gallop away with your head looking under its neck and +only your foot to be seen. Don’t you forget it. +But we must scupper these rascals on our +hunting-grounds.”</p> +<p>“Shall we crawl up to them?”</p> +<p>“Yes, crawl up. Then when I give a whoop rush +them. Take them alive. I wish to have a word with +them first. Carry them into the hut. Go!”</p> +<p>Away went the eager little figures, the chubby babes and the +two lithe, active boys. Daddy stood behind the bush +watching them. They kept a line and tip-toed along to the +camp of the strangers. Then on the Chief’s signal +they burst into a cry and rushed wildly with waving weapons into +the camp of the Palefaces. A moment later the two +pillow-made trappers <!-- page 245--><a name="page245"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 245</span>were being dragged off into the hut +by the whooping warriors. They were up-ended in one corner +when the Chief entered, and the victorious Indians were dancing +about in front of them.</p> +<p>“Anybody wounded?” asked the Chief.</p> +<p>“No, no.”</p> +<p>“Have you tied their hands?”</p> +<p>With perfect gravity Red Buffalo made movements behind each of +the pillows.</p> +<p>“They are tied, great Chief.”</p> +<p>“What shall we do with them?”</p> +<p>“Cut off their heads!” shrieked Dimples, who was +always the most bloodthirsty of the tribe, though in private life +he had been known to weep bitterly over a squashed +caterpillar.</p> +<p>“The proper thing is to tie them to a stake,” said +Laddie.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by killing our buffaloes?” asked +Daddy, severely.</p> +<p>The prisoners preserved a sulky silence.</p> +<p>“Shall I shoot the green one?” asked Dimples, +presenting his wooden pistol.</p> +<p>“Wait a bit!” said the Chief. “We had +best keep one as a hostage and send the other back to say that +unless the Chief of the Palefaces pays a ransom within three +days—”</p> +<p>But at that moment, as a great romancer used to say, a strange +thing happened. There was the sound of a turning key and +the whole tribe of the Leatherskins was locked into the <!-- page +246--><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +246</span>hut. A moment later a dreadful face appeared at +the window, a face daubed with mud and overhung with grass, which +drooped down from under a soft cap. The weird creature +danced in triumph, and then stooped to set a light to some paper +and shavings near the window.</p> +<p>“Heavens!” cried the Chief. “It is +Yellow Snake, the ferocious Chief of the Bottlenoses!”</p> +<p>Flame and smoke were rising outside. It was excellently +done and perfectly safe, but too much for the younger +warriors. The key turned, the door opened, and two tearful +babes were in the arms of the kneeling Lady. Red Buffalo +and Black Bear were of sterner stuff.</p> +<p>“I’m not frightened, Daddy,” said Laddie, +though he looked a little pale.</p> +<p>“Nor me,” cried Dimples, hurrying to get out of +the hut.</p> +<p>“We’ll lock the prisoners up with no food and have +a council of war upon them in the morning,” said the +Chief. “Perhaps we’ve done enough +to-day.”</p> +<p>“I rather think you have,” said the Lady, as she +soothed the poor little sobbing figures.</p> +<p>“That’s the worst of having kids to play,” +said Dimples. “Fancy having a squaw in a +war-party!”</p> +<p>“Never mind, we’ve had a jolly good Indian +game,” said Laddie, as the sound of a distant bell called +them all to the nursery tea.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Printed by Hazell</i>, <i>Watson +& Viney</i>, <i>Ld.</i>, <i>London and Aylesbury</i>, +<i>England</i>.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> The reader is referred to the Preface in +connection with this story.—A. 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