She Painted her Face (13 page)

"There spoke Old Harry," said I, "but not Caroline."

She whipped her arm out of mine and started aside.

"What ever d'you mean?"

I set my hands on her shoulders and turned her round.

"That you are a work of nature and she is a work of art. And you cannot play on her piano, and she cannot play on your pipe. I think you only did it to—to make me alter my focus and see that you're not the nonesuch I think you are. But it only upsets me, my lady, and doesn't do any good. I know you've got failings— you must have, because you're of flesh and blood; but you're rather exceptional— 'The heaven such grace did lend her. That she might admired be.' Well, you must let me admire you in my own way."

"All right," said Caroline meekly. "But don't bring me garlands, Richard. I couldn't bear that."

"You wicked girl. You—"

"That's better. And there's John coming. Say good-bye nicely. Quick."

She had put up her beautiful mouth and I had stooped and kissed it before I knew where I was.

So much for Old Harry's counsel. So much for the voice within me that told me that she was right. So much for the knowledge that I was hastening to that terrible valley of torment, where hearts are broken in pieces and the light of the eyes is put out. Indeed, from that time on, so far as I was concerned, the future cared for itself. For me, the wind was with me, the tide was full; and though I knew I must shipwreck and could see that coast of iron upon which I must come to grief. I gloried in my present condition, found myself the favourite of Fortune and rejoiced as a giant to run my desperate course.

Though I have not said as much, to please Caroline, Herrick and I had gone armed for exactly a week; and a pistol had been purchased for Winter, because we had only two. Approaching and leaving Raven, we used to sit with these drawn, for, if we were to be ambushed, the road which ran down to the farm especially favoured attack: and though, of course, it was clear that if we were fired upon, we should be hit or missed long before we could use our arms by having them drawn we should at least be ready to make some sort of reply.

It was half-past one in the morning before we once more entered this dangerous zone, and, remembering Old Harry's words, I found myself thanking Heaven that Caroline was not with us and would not have to run such a gauntlet again.

Thus thinking upon the matter, I presently grew quite sure that we were to be attacked, and, since I was driving, I made Herrick take my pistol because, for once in a way, he had left his behind.

He did so reluctantly.

"And at what do I fire?" he said "At the spot where the rude noise came from before I was plugged' Before I have time to reply, we must be out of range. I mean, that's our only chance. We can come back after they've gone and have a smell round, but this is a place to come first to— or not at all."

As I slowed for the first of the bends, he continued ruefully. "Of course, I wasn't meant to carry a gun. It spoils the set of my coat and all day long it gives me a series of shocks. And I think the swine likes warmth; if I don't watch it. I find it nursing my groin. I hope Brenda's all right. So as not to forget it, I left it out on my bed. Let's hope she's had the sense to leave It alone."

Winter lifted his voice

"I don't think she'd touch it, sir I showed her mine last night and I warned her off."

"Good."' said Herrick. "All the same, she'd have to touch it, if she was to make the bed."

Our alarms were without foundation.

We were not fired upon, and Raven was fast asleep. And since we were very tired, we shared a bottle of beer and stumbled upstairs.

I had put on my pyjamas, when Herrick opened my door.

"What d'you make of this?" he said. "The firearm has gone."

"Gone?" said I, staring.

"Gone," said Herrick. "As I told you just now, I left it out on the bed. Well, the bed's been made; so. of course, it had to be moved. But it's not in the room."

"It must be," said I. "You've missed it."

"Come and see," said Herrick, and led the way.

For fully five minutes we sought it, and sought it in vain.

At length:

"Brenda must have it," said I, "The thing's not here."

"I don't think that's likely," said Herrick, "in view of what Winter said. And yet I can hardly believe that Percy Elbert the Good would steal it away. And tell me another thing. Why do these crises arise when one is so drunk with sleep that one can hardly stand up?"

Herrick sank heavily down on the foot of his bed. As he did so, a deafening explosion made me jump out of my skin, and, in one most frantic convulsion, Herrick leapt upward and outward, as though propelled by some spring.

"My goodness," said I, and ripped the quilt from the bed.

Twelve inches from the foot of the bedstead, a broad-arrow ruck in the blanket declared that below the blanket something had moved.

I turned to Herrick. "Are you all right?"

"Well, I'm still the same shape," said Herrick, "if that's what you mean; but you can't sit down on a land-mine and be as good as you were."

Someone was running on the landing.

Then Winter appeared in the doorway— and Brenda wide-eyed behind him, with one of her hands to her throat.

"Nobody's hurt," said I. "Mr. Herrick's pistol went off. Where did you put it, Brenda? I mean, when you made the bed."

"On the chest of drawers, sir," pointing.

I see," said I.

"And what time did you turn down the bed?"

"At six o'clock, sir. As a rule I turn it down at nine, but, as you were out to dinner, I did it before."

"And then?"

"I visited my cousins at Monein, and spent the evening with them."

"Well, that's all right," said I "You go back to bed. Let your father and mother believe that we fired by mistake."

"I will do that," said Brenda, "but please may I know the truth?"

"It's simple enough," said I. "As soon as you'd left for Monein, somebody entered this house and came up to this room. They took Mr. Herrick's pistol, which you laid over there, and put it into his bed. Before they put it in, they put down the safety-catch. And they laid it with its mouth to the pillow— that ruck shows that; on firing, the pistol kicked— and shifted towards the foot. Now they've very light triggers, these things. Mr. Herrick touched it off by sitting on the edge of the bed. But if he'd got Into his bed in the ordinary way, and had touched it oft with his foot— as somebody meant him to do—"

"I think," said Brenda, quietly, "that the sooner that man is in gaol, the better for all of us."

"I entirely agree," said I, "but how can we prove he was here this afternoon? More. If he were asked his movements, I'll wager that he could prove he was fifty miles off."

Herrick was inspecting the bed.

"The muzzle," he said, "is now pointing rather that way. If, therefore, we stand on this side and loosen the sheet-"

We did so-gingerly. Then we lifted the loose sheet and blanket, turned them over and let them fall clear of the bed.

The weapon lay as he said.

Between trigger-guard and trigger a piece of cork had been wedged, so that all the play of the trigger was taken up. It follows that the cork, which protruded beyond the guard about three-eighths of an inch, became the pistol's hair trigger, the slightest touch upon which must certainly fire the thing off. Indeed, I shall always, wonder how Percy Virgil— for, of course, it must have been he— had contrived to arrange the bed-clothes without mishap, for when Herrick sat down on the bed, he did not sit down on the pistol by fully eight Inches or more, yet the draw of the sheet on the cork had fired the weapon before he was fairly down.

The sheets were scorched, and the path of the bullet was plain, for the undersheet was ripped and, when we had moved the pillows, there was a hole In the panel which made the head of the bed.

Using great care, I picked up the pistol and put up the safety-catch. Then I freed the cork and laid the two in a drawer.

"It's our day out," I said, "and Percy Virgil's day in. I mean, he's clean out of luck. This morning Caroline left her wrist-watch behind."

"On the landing table," cried Herrick, and clapped a hand to his mouth.

"It's all right," I said. "He wasn't here before six. And, as luck will have it, I saw it— at half-past five."

AFTER SO FULL a day and in view of what was to come we were thankful to have a week-end with nothing to do; for all that, I must confess that, had I not been sure that the Duchess would be annoyed, I would have driven to Tracery every day— not to assure myself that my lady was safe, for of that I could have no doubt, but because I was mad to see her and hear her call me by name. Instead, I sat In the meadows and played with the dream which the Duchess of Whelp, In her wisdom, had taken away, which the Countess of Brief, in her sweetness, had given me back. And because I was foolish, I wrote her a little note, which all the world might have read, which I posted myself at Gabble on Saturday afternoon.

Here I should say that out of evil came good; the attempt upon Herrick's life had cleared the air. We had thought it likely that some such attempt would be made, and, while we were not uneasy, our senses did constant duty against some surprise. But now the attempt had been made, and the danger was past— for Virgil would know that, whether he won or lost, his "throw" could not be hidden or made out an accident, and so would be sure to give Raven a very wide berth.

Herrick wrote to Old Harry on Saturday afternoon.

Madam,—

I have the honour to tell you that Exon and I reached Raven this morning at half-past one. And that, without incident. I am bound, however, to confess that my young and somewhat downright companion, for whom I share Your Grace's good-natured contempt, possesses an instinct which I would give much to enjoy. But I, of course, should turn it to good account. Approaching the farm, he smelt danger; he has since admitted so much. D'you think he could tell me so? D'you think he could make my brain free of this highly important fact? He preferred to withhold it, madam. He preferred to offend me— and, as you know, I am one of the mildest of men— by Insisting upon precautions I could not take and by fidgeting in his seat— a vulgar practice, of which, I may say, I have spoken to him before. I have said he smelt danger, madam; but because we had not been killed in the road of approach, our friend dismissed the matter and pitched his precious Instinct into the draught. And now listen to this. When I was changing yesterday afternoon, I laid on my bed a pistol— which I forgot to take up. Before retiring, I sought for this dangerous thing— at first casually, and then, since it was not apparent, with an uneasy diligence.

I presently found the thing. I found it by the process of exhaustion; because I was so fatigued I sat down on the edge of my bed. This very simple action caused it to fire itself off, for its trigger had been made very light by someone who knew his job. It was, in fact, in the bed. Now beds are made to get into, and not to sit down upon. If, then, I had used that bed as beds are meant to be used, I should not now have the honour of writing to you, for the bullet passed through my bolster and split the panel beyond. All this I tell you, madam, because you were kind enough to charge me to care for my skin. It shows that your judgment was sound, and it shows that, the bolt being shot, I have nothing to fear-at any rate before Tuesday, when we shall meet again. I propose to inform the police this same afternoon. Unless little Percy wore gloves, the pistol might well have yielded his horrible fingerprints; but Richard had pawed it all over before I had time to think. Not that I was deranged. My self possession was bottomless. As for my companion, who was present when the outrage took place, his make-up is out of order. Things which would disconcert Caesar, appear to fortify him. For me, to be honest, the world had come to an end-my end. Before I had collected my wits, he had resolved the phenomenon and spiked the gun. I think he throws back to someone of those blockish knights, who could neither read nor write, but made history instead - and that while wearing a suit which weighed ten or twelve stone. Probably he as born under a morning star.

Madam, I send you our duty-and beg that you will believe that yesterday was a day which we shall never forget. We are well aware that we were only received as friends of the Countess of Brief; but the very great honour remains, and to that you added a kindness which must have touched anyone's heart.

Please give Caroline my love, and tell her that Raven is gloomy even at noon, because the light of our eyes has gone to Tracery.

Believe me, Madam,

Your most obedient servant,

JOHN HERRICK

On Sunday the police came to Raven, and we reconstructed for them what had been so nearly a crime.

As they were leaving:

"Sirs," said the sergeant, "one day he will go too far, and will pull up the sluice which will let all our evidence go. And then he will be overwhelmed. To arrest him now would be futile. He bears a very big name, and his word would be taken before yours, in the absence of definite proof."

"I entirely agree," said Herrick.

"In fact, I was in two minds whether or not to report this latest affair. You see, we were frightfully tired. Dining out's all very well, but when the house you're dining at's ninety miles off—"

"Ninety miles?" cried the sergeant.

"Well, how far is Tracery?" said Herrick. "If you go by Goschen?"

"Tracery?"

Herrick surveyed the sergeant in some surprise.

"Tracery," he said. "We dined with the Duchess of Whelp."

The sergeant appeared to have lost the power of speech. At length :

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I—"

"I am not a lord," said Herrick.

The other waved his statement away.

"I— I had no idea," he stammered. "If I had known— that first day—" He broke off there and put a hand to his head. "If Her Grace were to learn that one of her friends had been subjected to—"

"Her Grace," said Herrick swiftly, "would also learn how highly the friend in question thought of the police."

The sergeant flushed with delight. "Your lordship is very good."

"Not at all," said Herrick. "Not at all. And now don't you rush this business. We both agreed just now that the time wasn't ripe! And if I am content to wait— well, I'm pretty closely concerned. In fact, may I leave it like this— that before you take any action, you'll let me know?"

The sergeant gave his assurance with all his might and, after further civilities, took his leave.

As we turned to the house:

"Of such," said Herrick quietly, 'is the kingdom of earth."

ON Monday three letters arrived.

One came from the Duchess of Whelp.

Dear John Herrick,

I very much hope that this letter will find you alive. But you were so obvious a victim that I have been kicking myself for letting you go.

I considered and rejected your suggestion that I should express a desire that Virgil should be at Brief. The man will be there, because he would know no peace if he went away. He will suspect our relation violently. Had I desired his presence this suspicion would have been confirmed.

I don't care what time you're invited— be there at four. And stand no rot till I come. From that time on, the contingency will not arise. Tell Richard to be his dear self and on no account whatever to try to pretend.

Caroline continues to do me good, but, though she is sweetness itself, I know that her heart is at Raven, with her young men.

A perusal of those pages of my diary which deal with my visit to Brief in 1912 has been instructive and should prove valuable. All the same, I would give a great deal for some heavier stuff. It is one thing to tread on a man's corns, but it is by no means so easy to break his back.

Believe me,

Yours very sincerely,

HARRIET WHELP.

One came from Caroline:

My Dear Richard,

I have learned quite a lot about you— some things, perhaps, which you do not know yourself. You'll never guess who from. Parish. His sister was your mother's maid. And twice he visited Usage, whilst she was there. He remembers you on your pony and your father riding to hounds, and the rookery beyond the stables and how everyone worshipped your mother, and heaps of things. The Duchess is kindness Itself and speaks much of you; but I miss you very much and shall be very glad to see you again. But I wish I was going to Raven, instead of to Brief. Looking back on our time there, I see how precious it was. I have never let the world slip before, and if I am never to be allowed to let it slip again, then I do not want to become the Countess of Brief. I hope you are being careful, as you said you would be. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I should do.

With my love,

CAROLINE.

One came by hand from Brief:

The Count of Brief presents his compliments to Mr. John Herrick and begs to express the hope that he and Mr. Richard Exon will make it convenient to become his guests to-morrow at six o'clock, to meet the Duchess of Whelp and to remain at Brief during Her Grace's pleasure.

Herrick read this aloud, and fingered his chin.

"Ice for two," he said shortly. "I suppose it could have been ruder, but the blood you wring out of a stone is usually thin. And when we roll up at four, he'll go blue in the face. As for Percy the Good, he must be half out of his mind— a victim raised from the dead and two witnesses coming to stay. Let's send him a wire signed 'Max Bracher,' asking to be met at the station at half-past three. You know, this play has its points. It may be melodrama, but you must admit that the situation is pregnant— if nothing more."

"I'll be glad when it's over," said I. "He's wicked enough in cold blood, but he's going to be red-hot with his back to the wall."