Читать книгу: «Dead Man's Love», страница 6

As for any future that might once have seemed bright before me – what future had I? I was practically in hiding under another name, and I had no resources save those I might derive from one who knew my secret, and was, in a great sense, my enemy. I was in love – surely more hopelessly than mortal man had ever been before; and I was liable at any moment to be betrayed by the man Harvey Scoffold, who had penetrated my story. Altogether, as I came to review the position, I could have heartily wished myself back in my prison again, save for one element in the business. That element was Debora Matchwick, and I knew that in the strange game I was playing Fate had destined me to fight on her side, in a matter of life and death.

Bardolph Just returned early in the afternoon, and went straight to his study. Debora I had seen for an instant as she crossed the hall; she gave me a quick smile, and that was all. There seemed to be brooding over the whole house an atmosphere of expectancy – quite as though we waited for something that was to happen, and faced it each in his or her particular way. I found myself listening for the doctor's step in the house, while I felt equally certain that for his part he was wondering what move I should take, and was calmly preparing to meet such a move, whatever it might be.

The long day drew to a close, and presently the harsh bell clanged through the house as a summons to dinner. I happened to be in my room at the time, and as I stepped out of it to go down the stairs, I saw that the doctor was waiting at the head of the stairs, and was peering over into the hall below. He turned his head when he heard my step behind him, and spoke in a whisper. He spoke as though we were on the friendliest terms, and almost as if there were some secret understanding between us. As I stepped up to him he put his hand on my shoulder, and, laughable as it may seem, I felt a little thrill of gratitude and tenderness for the man run through me – such was the fascination of him. All my suspicions of him seemed to go to the wind.

"I thought I ought to prepare you, John, in case you didn't know," he whispered. "Two bits of news – Harvey Scoffold has come to dinner, which may mean mischief; and Capper's missing."

He imparted that last scrap of information with something so like a chuckle that I looked at him quickly, with a new suspicion in my mind. Oddly enough, he must have guessed what I meant, for he shook his head and grinned.

"Oh, nothing to do with me, I assure you," he said. "Only he has gone off without a word to anyone – and I don't quite like it. Of course, I'm relieved to know that he has gone; the old fool was like a ghost wandering about the place. But still, I'd like to know where he is."

"I don't see that it matters very much," I replied. "But what makes you think that Scoffold may mean mischief?"

Still keeping his hand on my shoulder, he turned me about, and began to walk with me down the stairs. "Because it's a long time since he has visited me until the other night, and now he comes again. You see, he knows our story, and he's utterly unscrupulous. More than that, he's always in want of money."

"I'll try what personal violence will do, if he tries any tricks with me," I muttered savagely. And once again I heard the doctor chuckle.

Harvey Scoffold was in the dining-room when we entered, and was talking to Debora. He was flourishing about in his big, bullying way, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and his feet wide apart. He turned round to greet us at once. I noticed that he looked sharply from the doctor to me, and back again, as though he suspected we had been discussing him; but the next moment he gripped our hands warmly, and began to pour out apologies.

"I hope you don't mind a lonely man coming in, and taking advantage of your hospitality in this fashion," he began to the doctor. "But it suddenly occurred to me that I might run over to see you – and I acted on the impulse of a moment."

"Delighted, I'm sure," murmured Bardolph Just. Yet he scarcely looked delighted. "You know you're always welcome, Harvey."

"Thanks – a thousand thanks!" exclaimed the big man. "You fellows interested me so much the other night while we smoked our cigars, that I rather wanted to have that little discussion out with you. You don't mind?"

We were seated at the table by this time, and I saw the doctor look up quickly at him, with something of a scowl on his face. "I mind very much," he said sharply. "Drop it."

A little startled, Harvey Scoffold sat upright, looking at him for a moment; then he nodded slowly. "Very good – then the subject is dropped," he said. "It would not have been mentioned again by me, but that I thought I might be of some assistance in the matter."

There was no reply to that, and we presently drifted into other topics of conversation. But after a time it seemed as though Harvey Scoffold, in sheer venom, must get back to that subject, if only by a side door, for he presently asked a question casually that bore straight upon it.

"By the way, that quaint old servant, Capper – is he any better?"

The doctor slowly finished the wine he was drinking, and set the glass down, and wiped his lips; then, without looking at his questioner, he answered —

"Capper is gone!" he said.

Two persons at the table echoed that last word together – Harvey Scoffold and Debora exclaimed, as in one voice, "Gone!"

"Having had enough of our society, the man has taken himself off as mysteriously as he came," went on the doctor calmly. "I never understood his coming; still less do I understand his going, although I confess that the latter movement is the more reasonable. Perhaps he has remembered where his master is, and has gone to join him."

I stole a glance at the startled face of the girl. She seemed strangely excited. Harvey Scoffold, evidently at a loss for conversation, hummed the mere shred of an air between his lips, and looked at the ceiling. The doctor's face I could not see, because he was behind the lamp. I longed for the dinner to pass, because I wanted to get at my man, and find out just what game was afoot; I was in a mood to choke whatever news he had out of him, if necessary.

Debora rose at last, and went out of the room. No sooner was the door closed than the doctor shifted his chair a little, so as to bring him clear of the lamp, and brought a fist down on the table with a bang.

"Now, Scoffold," he said violently, "what's the move?"

"Yes, what's the move?" I echoed, leaning towards the man also.

He glanced from one to the other of us with a look of smiling innocence on his face. "The move?" he said. "I'm afraid I don't understand. In the name of all that's marvellous, can't a man come to dinner with friends without being asked what the move is?"

"You're not the man to do anything without a purpose," cried Bardolph Just. "You discovered something the last time you were here, and you evidently want to discover something else. Let me warn you – "

"Stop! stop!" broke in Harvey Scoffold, raising his hands protestingly. "I need no threats and no warnings, because there is nothing to threaten about, nor to warn about. My hands are clean, and I trust they may remain so. If I referred to the matter at all to-night, it was simply because I was naturally very deeply interested in the story I heard, and I wanted to know what further developments there might be, that is all."

"Well, there are no further developments," growled the doctor. "I doubt if there will be any further developments."

"I'm delighted to hear it, and I'm only worried about one thing – that's the man Capper. He may make mischief, and he may get himself into trouble – poor old fellow! – wandering about the world friendless. I'm quite sorry for Capper."

The doctor excused himself almost immediately, and went to his study. To my surprise, Scoffold linked his arm in mine, and drew me with him towards the door of the house. "It's a fine night, and a walk will do you good," he said. "Walk back with me to my place."

"That's rather too far," I said, for I remembered that he had chambers in the West-end of London.

"I've taken another lodging," he said, without looking at me. "It's about a mile from here – or perhaps a little more – in a sort of rural cottage, where I can smell the roses when I wake in the morning. Cheap and wholesome, and all that sort of thing. Come along."

It was still quite early, and I reflected that no harm was likely to come to the girl in the short time I should be away. Besides, in a fashion, this man drew me to him, by reason of the fact that I was afraid of him, and of what he might do or say. So we went out of the house together, and traversed the dark grounds, and so came arm-in-arm into the open road. Smoking our cigars like two gentlemen at ease, we strolled along under the stars.

I found that he had taken a lodging in a quaint little cottage, with a long garden in front of it, in a queer little back street in Highgate – I should scarcely have believed that such a place existed in what was really London. He fitted his key into the door, and we went into a tiny passage and up some stairs. As we reached the top of the stairs, a clean-looking old woman came out of the room below, and called to him.

"Your servant is waiting up for you, sir," she said.

"Thank you very much indeed," replied Harvey Scoffold blandly, and the woman retired.

I found myself wondering a little what sort of servant he had brought to such a place as this. I followed him into a little clean sitting-room, with two doors opening out of it into what were evidently bedrooms.

At one side of the room a little table was set out with decanters, and glasses, and syphons: he proceeded to mix for himself and for me. Looking about him in search of something which he could not find, he struck his hand on a little bell, and I saw one of the doors open, and someone come in. I stared with a dropping jaw when I saw that the mysterious servant who now came in smiling was Capper!

Capper did not look at me. He received his instructions, and went out of the room in search of what was wanted. He came noiselessly back in a moment or two, and during his absence no word was spoken. When the door was finally closed again, I spoke in a tone I vainly endeavoured to control.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.

"Of what?" asked Harvey Scoffold innocently. "Oh! you mean Capper? Purely an act of charity, my dear boy. I wouldn't have wished the old man to starve."

"You're lying," I said hotly. "You asked all those questions to-night during dinner, knowing well that the old man was here. Come, what's the motive?"

He took a long drink and set down his glass with a sigh of satisfaction. "The motive is this," he said, with a curious grin stealing over his features. "While I wish no direct harm to you, my dear boy, I always like to be prepared for anything that may happen. I am in possession of your story – I know practically all that I want to know. But in the fulness of time that story must change and move; something's got to happen to you at some time or other. Now this man Capper – this creature of the lost memory – may be a mere pawn in the game, or he may be something more. Who shall say what is locked away in that numbed brain of his? – who shall say when or under what circumstances he may wake up? I shall be curious to know what he will say when he wakes – curious to understand what the shock was that drove him into his present condition."

"Why should you concern yourself about the matter at all?" I demanded.

"Because I wish to concern myself on your account, my dear fellow," he said blandly. "Really you ought to be very much obliged to me. Bardolph Just would have sent the man packing, or would have let him drift out into the world, with the possibility that at some time or other Capper would wake up and tell his story, and demand sanely to know where his master was. Here I have him safely, and if he blurts out the story at all – always supposing that he has one to blurt out – he can only tell it to a friend. Don't be hasty, and don't misjudge people."

Nevertheless, I did not like it. I knew that I was in the power of this man Scoffold, and I saw, in the line of conduct he was taking, so many steps towards using me for his own ends. The coming to dinner, the taking of this lodging so near to where I lived, the securing of the man Capper. I felt that he was drawing a net about me, out of which I might not be able to struggle.

We sat talking for a long time, and gradually, with his plausible tongue, he persuaded me that he was my friend, and that he meant to help me. He suspected the doctor, he told me, and his real motive in coming to that lodging was to be near me in case of necessity.

"Trust me," he said, "and I will stand your friend. More than that, I want to show you now that my help shall be of a practical nature. I take it that you have no money; that you are dependent upon Bardolph Just for everything?" As I was silent, he nodded, and went on, "Just as I thought. Well, we'll remedy that; you must let me lend you a little money."

I protested feebly for a time, but he was insistent, and at last I yielded. I took only a few shillings, because I really needed them, and I did not know at what moment I might be thrown on my own resources, and left to face the world once more. Then, with something amounting to friendliness, I left Harvey Scoffold at the little gate in the fence, at the end of the long garden which led to the cottage, and took my way back towards the doctor's house.

It was very late, and very dark. I was going along at a swinging pace, when I saw a man rise from beside the road and come hobbling towards me, pleading volubly as he came. Having nothing for beggars, I was pressing on, while he jogged along beside me, about a foot in my rear, still pleading.

"S'welp me, guv'nor, yer might spare a tanner to 'elp a pore bloke to a night's lodging. I've bin trampin' it all day, an' I've scarcely 'ad a mouthful of food; it wouldn't 'urt yer to give me a tanner. I wouldn't be like this 'ere if I 'adn't bin unfort'nit; but wot's a pore bloke to do wot's been in jail – an' gits chivied abaht – "

I stopped and wheeled round on him. "You say you've been in prison?" I asked. "What prison was it?"

"Pent'ouse," he replied; and on that I thrust the money I had ready in my hand into his, and turned abruptly and made off.

But, as ill-luck would have it, we had been standing squarely under a lamp, and as I turned round I saw the man give a start of surprise. I was in a mood to run, knowing well that I could out-distance him easily, but as I went striding away, I heard him come pounding after me, and heard him shouting something. The mischief was done; there was nothing for it but to meet him.

So I turned back slowly and then stood still, and waited for him.

CHAPTER VI.
I BEHAVE DISGRACEFULLY

The man I now faced on that solitary road had all the appearance of a tramp. By the light of the lamp above us I saw that he was clad in a dingy old tweed suit, very much frayed at the cuffs and the trouser-ends, while upon his head was a cap much too large for him, the peak of which was worn over one ear. And this not from any rakishness, but rather, as it seemed, as a sullen protest against the more orderly habits of his fellows. As the game was in his hands for the moment, I left the first move to him.

"Well, strike me pink!" he exclaimed under his breath, as he looked me up and down. "Wot's walkin' to-night – live men or spooks? Jail-bird or gent – w'ich is it?"

"I don't know what you mean," I said lamely. "I know nothing about you – "

"Come orf it!" he exclaimed, with a disgusted shrug. "If you don't know nothink abaht me, wot did yer come back for w'en I 'ollered? W'y – we worked in the same gang!"

"I never saw you in my life before," I said, feeling now that all was up with me.

"Oh, yus, yer did!" he retorted. "You an' me worked in the same gang, an' slep' at night in cells wot was next to each uvver. An' then one day you cut yer lucky, an' they brought you back a dead 'un. 'Ere, ketch 'old of my 'and!"

He stretched out a grimy hand to me as he spoke and quite mechanically I put my own into it. He gripped it for a moment, and then tossed it from him with a laugh.

"You ain't no spook," he said, "an' you ain't no bloomin' twin brother. You won't kid old George Rabbit."

"I don't want to kid anybody," I said. "And I shouldn't think you'd be the sort to go back on a pal. Why, you're free yourself!"

"Yes, in a proper sort o' way," he retorted. "Got my discharge reg'lar, an' a nice little pat on the back w'en I come out fer bein' a good boy. Not that that does yer much good – 'cos 'ere I am starving, w'ile the bloke that comes out through the roof, an' cuts his lucky, dresses like a toff, an' smokes a cigar you could smell a mile orf. As fer me, it don't 'ardly run to 'alf a hounce an' a inch of clay."

"Well, at any rate you're better off now, and as to freedom – well, we can cry quits as to that," I said. "Here's some more money for you, all I can spare. I'll wish you good-night."

"'Arf a mo' – 'arf a mo'!" he cried, catching at my sleeve and detaining me. "Do yer fink I'm goin' to let yer go like that? W'y, there's lots of fings wants explainin'. 'Ow do you come to be walkin' at large like this 'ere, after they've tolled the bloomin' bell for yer at Pent'ouse?"

"I can't explain everything to you; it would take too long," I said. "Suffice it that I've found friends who have helped me; there was another man buried in my place. And now, Mr. George Rabbit," I added fiercely, "you'll please to understand that Norton Hyde, convict, lies buried in a certain grave you know of, and quite another man has given you money to-night. Get that into your thick head, and once more 'good-night' to you."

I turned away abruptly to resume my walk. After all, I felt that I was pretty safe; such a shifty, shambling creature as this would only be regarded as a madman if he told any tale about me, especially any tale that would seem as absurd as this one of a man alive that should properly be dead. So I strode away, whistling.

But after a moment or two, glancing furtively over my shoulder, I saw that he was following, coming along on the other side of the road at a sort of hobbling trot that carried him over the ground as fast as my longer stride. I stopped, and looked back at him; and in a moment he stopped too, and waited.

"You'd better go back," I called across to him threateningly, but he did not answer.

On I went again, and once more, as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him coming along in the same way, like a grim Fate that would not be shaken off. I had just made up my mind to try conclusions with him in the shape of personal violence, and had stopped with that purpose in my mind, when a voice broke in out of the darkness that startled me even more than it could have startled Mr. Rabbit.

"Is that man following you, sir?"

It was a constable, standing in the shadow of a doorway, and he had evidently been watching our approach. I knew by the fact that George Rabbit stood his ground, and even edged a little nearer, that he felt he had nothing to fear; while, for my part, the mere sight of the uniformed constable, coming at that juncture, had thrown me into such a sweat of terror that I could scarcely speak. However, I managed to jerk out some words which were perhaps the most stupid I could have used, because I doubt not that had I braved the matter out, George Rabbit would have taken to his heels, and so have left me in peace. But my words only strengthened whatever ties the man meant to bind me with.

"It's all right, constable," I blurted out; "the man's a friend of mine in – in reduced circumstances. I'm going to find him a lodging."

So we shuffled on in our original order past the constable, and now I began to feel that I had indeed taken a load upon me that was more than I could support. By this time George Rabbit had drawn nearer to me, and was shuffling along contentedly at my side, and with each step I was coming nearer to the house of Dr. Bardolph Just. In desperation at last I turned about, and caught him suddenly by the throat and shook him. I remember now that he tumbled about in my hands as though he had been the mere bundle of rags he looked, so that I was a little ashamed of my violence.

"You dog!" I exclaimed savagely, "what the devil do you mean by following me like this? What do you think you'll gain?"

"I dunno, yet," he said shakily, while his head rolled from side to side. "I can't be much worse off than wot I am, an' I may be a deal better."

"I'll give you all I have in my pockets if you'll turn back now, and forget you've ever seen me," I said, releasing him.

He grinned at me. "I've got sich a 'orrible good memory," he said. "Besides, I couldn't fergit that face under any circs."

"What do you think you'll get?" I demanded again.

"I'll put it plain, guv'nor," he said, standing in the road before me, and looking at me with his head on one side. "I've bin out o' luck a long time; even my pals don't seem to cotton to me some'ow. Nah, you've got friends – real tip-toppers, I'll be bound – wot spells it in quids w'ere I spells it in brown 'uns. Also likewise you don't want it blowed about that you ain't wot you seem, an' that your proper place fer the next few years is Pent'ouse, to say nothink of awkward enquiries about somebody else wot was buried by mistake. In case there's any questions asked, you want a pal wot'll s'welp 'is never that 'e don't know any more abaht yer than the King on 'is golding throne. An' that's me – that's George Rabbit!"

"I don't want your help," I said.

"But you've got to 'ave it, all the same," he remarked cheerfully.

So it happened that I had to go on again, with this ragged retainer trailing behind. In that order we came to the gate leading into the grounds, and I went in, still puzzled to know what to do with the man. By this time I realised that, however much the doctor might resent his appearance, it was vitally necessary that for his own sake, as well as for mine, Bardolph Just should assist me in silencing that too free tongue which wagged in the head of George Rabbit. While I was debating what to do with the man, he settled that question for himself.

"It's a nice warm night, guv'nor; if you could give me some place w'ere I could jist lay meself dahn, an' do a snooze, I should be as comfy as comfy. Only if I could git summink to eat, an' a drop o' drink fust, I should be 'appier still."

"You'd better wait here while I go to the house," I replied. "I'll bring you out something to eat, and I'll show you where to sleep."

I left him standing under the trees, and, greatly perturbed in mind, made my way to the house. I had seen a light in the doctor's study, and I now made straight for it, for this was a matter in which I must have advice. Without troubling to knock at the door, I opened it and walked straight in.

At first I thought the room was empty, and I was withdrawing again when I heard voices at the further end of it. The voices proceeded from behind the screen which hid that part of the room which was the surgery, and it was evident that whoever was there, believing that they had the place to themselves, were at no pains to mask their voices.

The first voice I heard was one which I recognised easily as that of the woman Martha Leach. She was evidently greatly excited, and labouring under strong emotion.

"God help me! why have I clung to you all these years – for you to make a mock of me now, and to try to fling me aside? What has my life been that I should stand calmly by and be slighted, and treated like the dirt under your feet?"

It was the doctor's voice that broke in, sharply and angrily. "You've remained with me because it suited your purpose to do so," he said. "Years ago I befriended you – you know under what circumstances. You know how I imperilled my position to do it; you know that, but for me, you would have stood in a criminal dock – "

"I know – I know!" she cried. "And after that my life was given to you. I became as something that did not exist for myself, but for another. And now – now all that is forgotten."

"It was forgotten years ago, and will never be remembered now," he said. "If you are not content with your position here, the remedy lies in your own hands: you can leave the house, and start somewhere again for yourself."

"You know I can't do that," she said, in a lower tone. "Only you might be fair to me; you might let me understand that even if I am nothing, this girl is less. Why should you degrade me before her?"

"Because you were growing insolent," he said. "Leave Miss Matchwick's name out of the question."

"You tried to kill her," said the woman, sinking her voice yet more. "I saw that; I know why you opened those doors last night."

There was a long pause, and then I heard the doctor give a quick laugh. "Well, doesn't that satisfy you?" he asked.

She seemed to laugh in response. "But you won't have the courage again," she taunted him.

"Won't I?" I heard him move as though he took a step towards her. "I shall. And next time it will be something more subtle than any such bungling business of an accident at night. I gave a certificate once, in the case of a certain Martha Leach, concerning the death – "

"Don't speak of that!" she exclaimed.

"And I can give one in the case of the death of a certain Debora – What's that?"

I had been so startled that I had stumbled back against the door, closing it noisily. I had the sense now to open it quickly, and apparently to march into the room, cheerily whistling. As I did so the doctor came quickly round the screen and confronted me.

"Hullo!" I exclaimed. "Forgive my bursting in like that; I wanted to see you."

He drew a breath of relief, and smiled in a ghastly fashion; he seemed strangely shaken. "You did startle me rather," he said. "What's the matter?"

Now I knew that the woman Leach was still behind the screen, and that she must hear every word that I might have to say, and Bardolph Just knew that also. Yet we must play the game of pretences in such a fashion as to make each believe that we were certain we were the only two persons in the room. More than that, having had a sample of the woman's curiosity that morning, I was in no mood to talk about myself, or of that fellow jail-bird I had met, within her hearing. Yet I could not suggest talking with the doctor elsewhere, because that must at once show him that I knew we had a listener. There was nothing for it but to speak as vaguely as possible, and to try and get him away from that room.

"I've had an adventure to-night, and I rather want to tell you about it," I said. "I've met a man, by the merest accident, whom I know."

He glanced quickly at the screen, and then looked again at me. "Won't your news keep till the morning?" he asked.

"Well, hardly," I replied, with a laugh. "The friend of whom I speak is here now."

"Here?" The doctor looked puzzled.

"Yes," I said. "You see, it happens that he was with me in a certain place of which you know, and he is rather anxious to renew an acquaintance so auspiciously begun."

The doctor whistled softly, and once more glanced at the screen. "We'll go downstairs and talk about this," he said. "This room is intolerably hot."

He opened the door for me to pass out, and as I preceded him murmured an excuse that he had forgotten something, and went quickly back. I went downstairs, and in a moment or two he joined me in the dining-room. I could scarcely refrain from smiling at my secret knowledge of what had taken place in the other room, even though I was agitated by dreadful fears concerning Debora. I had gleaned but a dim notion of what the pair had been talking about, but it had been enough to show me that Bardolph Just had by no means repented of his purpose. I shuddered at the connection of Debora's name with death. Moreover, guessing something of the character of the woman Leach, and adding to that the remembrance of what she had said to me that morning, I saw that matters were indeed desperate. And, to add to my perplexities, there was the man George Rabbit, waiting all this time under the trees for my reappearance.

"Now, what has happened?" asked the doctor sharply.

"I met a man to-night, by the greatest ill-fortune, who worked in the same gang with me in Penthouse prison," I answered him. "A mean dog, who intends to trade on the knowledge, and to get what he can out of me. I tried to shake him off, but he stuck to me like wax."

"What have you done with him?" he asked.

"I left him in the grounds; I promised to take food and drink to him," I said.

He paced about the room for a moment or two, with his arms folded, and his chin in the hollow of one hand. "I don't like the look of things at all; it seems almost as if a net were closing in about us," he said at last. "Harvey Scoffold was bad enough; now comes someone who, according to your description, is scarcely likely to prove as reasonable even as Scoffold might be. This dog scents money, I take it?"

"He scents everything that means easy living, and no work, and safety," I answered.

"Bring him in here; perhaps I may be able to deal with him better than you," said the doctor suddenly. "We'll feed him, and we'll see what he has to say for himself. That's the ticket; bring him in here."

I went out at once into the grounds, and was relieved to see George Rabbit slouch out from the shadows of the trees, and come towards me. "Bin a bloomin' long time, you 'ave," he growled resentfully.

"Don't be impudent," I said sharply. "Come into the house, and I'll give you a meal."

He drew back and shook his head. "Not me," he replied. "I ain't goin' to run into no traps. 'Ow do I know who's inside, or wot's goin' to 'appen to me? I'm safe 'ere, an' 'ere I'll stop."

"What's to harm you?" I asked him. "You've nothing to fear; you've worked out your time, and are a free man. If anyone has to be afraid of what's going to happen, I think I'm the man."