"Now, Jim, dip your beak into that, and let me see if it will not restore to your classic features their customary repose."
So saying, Winter handed me a stately tumbler, and the mixture was so much to my liking that I felt an involuntary relaxation of my facial muscles immediately I obeyed the command. I stretched myself at length in the easy chair which I had drawn up before the fire, and felt able to forgive even the Motor Pirate. We were alone in the apartment which Winter called his study, but since the only books he read therein were motor-catalogues, and the lounges with which the snuggery was furnished were much more conducive to repose than to mental exertion, I refused to acknowledge its claim to the title. That, by the way. The fire was burning brightly. Winter's red, rugged, honest face was beaming with almost equal radiance. Who could help feeling happy?
Then Mannering was announced, and Mannering was a man I had learned to passively dislike. Why, I scarcelyknew. I was aware of nothing against him. Indeed, when six months previously, on my first coming to St. Albans, I had been introduced to him, I had been rather favourably impressed. He was a tall dark man of thirty-five, with more than the average endowment of good looks. He could tell a good story, had shot big game in most parts of the world, was well-read, intelligent, possessed unexceptionable manners, and yet—— Well, Winter had none of his various qualifications, but I would at any time far rather have had one friend like Winter than a hundred like the other man.
I had first made his acquaintance at Colonel Maitland's house, where I had found him on an apparently intimate footing. Perhaps it was this very intimacy which formed the basis for my dislike, for—there is no need to mince matters—at this time I was jealous, horribly and unreasonably jealous, of every male person who entered the Colonel's house. And here, perhaps, it will be better for me to explain how it happened that I came to be living in a cottage on the outskirts of St. Albans in preference to my own house in Norfolk.
The change in my residence had been entirely due to a tennis party at Cromer. There I met Evie Maitland. She was—— No, every one can fill in the blank from their own experience for themselves; and if they cannot, I pity them.
Fortunately I had an aunt present. She was the most amiable of aunts, and quite devoted towards her most dutiful nephew. With her assistance, I managed notonly to improve my acquaintance with Miss Maitland, but also to effect an introduction to her father. I had only known them a week, however, before the Colonel took his daughter back to St. Albans. I allowed an interval of a fortnight to elapse, and then I followed. Of course I had to be prepared with some excuse, and here luck favoured me. Looking through the directory I discovered that Winter, whom I knew slightly as having been up at Camford about the same time as myself, was also a resident in the delightful St. Alban's suburb of St. Stephens where the Maitlands resided. I sought out Winter. I confided my story to him. The upshot of it all was that I took a cottage close to his house, and not far from the Colonel's, ostensibly that under Winter's tuition I might develop into a first-class motorist.
Somehow I found that I made a great deal more progress with my motoring than with my love-making. Surely a more bewitching, tantalizing, provoking little beauty than Evie Maitland never tore a man's heart to fragments. If she was kind to me one day, she would be still kinder to Mannering the next. But that is neither here nor there. Anyhow, I heartily wished him out of the way, for there was no doubt whatever that Randolph Mannering was a much more attractive person than my insignificant self. His mere advantage in age counted for something; but I could have forgiven him that, had he not made use of the years to see so much and do so much, that he could not help appearing in the light of a hero to a girl who was just at the worshipping age.And he knew so well how to get the fullest value out of his experiences. He never paraded them, I must admit that much in his favour. He was far too clever. An anecdote here and there to illustrate some point in the conversation, a modest account of some thrilling adventure, in which he hardly ever mentioned the part he had personally played, produced a much greater effect than if he had gone about trumpeting the deeds he had done and the dangers he had survived.
He had, too, the advantage of a much longer acquaintance with the Maitlands than myself. I learned from the Colonel that Mannering had been living in a house whose garden adjoined his own for a year before my arrival on the scene. His life, until the Colonel had recognized him as an acquaintance he had made at the house of a friend some years before, had been that of a recluse, the object of his retirement being to perfect some mechanical invention upon which he was engaged. He had soon developed into a friend of the family, and I had found him firmly installed as such when I made my appearance at St. Albans.
Naturally then I was none too pleased that Winter had proposed to take him into our confidence, but I made no absolute objection.
I sat smoking quietly while Winter told the story of our adventure. He listened most attentively.
"It's a most extraordinary story," he remarked, when the narrative was concluded. "You are quite sure neither of you touched any of that port?"
Winter turned one of his pockets inside out with an expressive gesture.
"Wine may rob a man of his wits," he replied, "but it does not relieve him of fifty pounds in notes, six in gold, a watch and chain worth fifty, and a diamond which has been valued at a hundred."
"The numbers of the notes should enable you to trace the thief," said Mannering, thoughtfully.
Winter laughed. "The fact is, I am such a careless beggar. I always carry notes about with me, replenishing my case when necessary; and really I have nothing to tell me whether those notes I had in my possession were the last batch I had from the bank, or odd ones left over from previous consignments. They may have been in my case for months."
"Both Winter and I could identify our watches," I hazarded.
"Of course," replied Mannering, "if your Motor Pirate is fool enough to attempt to pawn them you may get the chance; but if he sells them to a receiver, they'll go straight into the melting pot."
Winter lit a cigarette and Mannering turned to me. "What was the extent of your loss?"
"Ten in gold, thirty in notes, and say thirty for my watch. My loss is comparatively light."
"You know the numbers of your notes, I suppose?" he inquired, as he lit a cigarette in turn.
"Yes," I replied, "I'm not quite so casual as Winter."
"There's some clue for the police to work upon, then."
"It might prove to be so, only Winter thinks we show up so badly in the whole affair that he won't hear of my giving information."
"The fact is," said Winter, "Maitland slept soundly through the whole affair, and it wouldn't be sporting to give him away."
"I see——" began Mannering.
Winter deftly changed the subject. "What puzzles me," he said, "is the kind of motor the fellow employed to propel his car. I know of nothing at present on the market anything like so effective. I've seen 'em all."
"Your loss doesn't seem to trouble you much, anyhow," commented Mannering.
"I would willingly give a hundred times as much for a duplicate of that motor. I should be pretty sure to get my money back once I put it on the market."
"If there's all that value in it, why should the owner go in for highway robbery?" I asked.
"That's just what I fail to understand," said Winter. "From what I could see of it, our friend the Motor Pirate is possessed of an ideal car, graceful in shape, making no noise, running with a minimum of vibration and a maximum of speed. Why, there's a fortune in it."
"Of course it is quite impossible that the motive power can be electricity?" remarked Mannering, gazing into the fire as if he could see a solution of the mystery therein.
"Quite out of the question. Any one who has the slightest knowledge of motoring would know it to be impossible, even if the Pirate had devised a storage battery which would knock Edison's latest invention into a cocked hat. But supposing he had achieved the feat, remember that, according to the newspaper reports, he was at Plymouth yesterday at dusk, near Salisbury at eleven the same evening, and holding us up on the confines of St. Albans to night. He would be bound to get his batteries recharged somewhere and, with a car of such remarkable shape, how is he to do so without exciting remark? No; electricity is quite out or the question. I should be glad to think that the car was an electric one. His capture would only be a matter of a few hours."
An indefinable expression, which might have been a smile, flitted across Mannering's face.
"I hope, for all our sakes, his motor is an electric one," he said. "At all events it should not be difficult to track a car of so singular a shape. If it were built on the same lines as yours or mine, for instance, the owner might go anywhere without attracting attention."
"Anyhow," I broke in, "until he is captured I'm going for a run every night with something that will shoot within easy reach. The next time I have the fortune to meet with him I hope I shall be in a position to get a bit of my own back."
Again a smile appeared on Mannering's face as he exclaimed, "I almost feel inclined to follow your example.I have nearly forgotten how to use a pistol since I have resided in this law-ridden land."
"Surely you won't expose your experimental car to the chance of being rammed by the Motor Pirate," remarked Winter, chaffingly.
Mannering's car was a stock joke with us. It was a particularly cumbersome vehicle, with heaven only knows what type of body. It might have been capable of twenty miles an hour on the flat, but that would be the extreme limit of its powers. "You fellows," he had explained to us one day, "have taken to motoring for the fun of flying along the high-roads at an illegal speed. I have taken to it for a more utilitarian purpose. I have my own ideas about the motor of the future, and I am working them out down here. My old caravan is heavy, perhaps, but I want a heavy car. It's most useful for testing tyres, and that is one of the special points engaging my attention. Besides, in this car I am not tempted to get into trouble with the police. Twelve miles an hour is quite fast enough for all my purposes."
Both Winter and myself had frequently asked him how he was progressing with his work, but as he had never returned us any but the vaguest of answers, nor ever invited us into the workshop which had once formed the stables of the house where he resided, we had thought that his story of being engaged in mechanical invention merely an excuse for getting rid of unpleasant visitors. I think we were both surprised when he answered Winter's chaff quite warmly.
"I should not at all mind exposing my car to any risk if I could get the opportunity to examine the Motor Pirate's car. If the truth must be told, from what I have seen of his car, and what you have told me, I am rather inclined to think that whoever designed it has forestalled me in an idea which I had thought quite my own. I have long been working to produce a car which would run at least a hundred miles an hour without noise or perceptible vibration."
"Couldn't you get it completed in a week?" interrupted Winter. "We might have a most exciting chase after our friend."
Mannering shook his head. "I've been absolutely floored on one detail, and if that fellow has solved the problem——" Shrugging his shoulders, he rose and held out his hand to Winter. I followed his example.
"I had no idea that you had anything so important on the stocks," remarked Winter, as he accompanied us to the door.
"Nor would you have done so until you saw the perfect machine on the road, if it had not been for my chagrin at seeing that car to-night. Of course I can count upon you both to say nothing of the matter."
"On condition that you do not refer to our adventure again," said I, laughing.
"Agreed," responded Mannering, as he smiled again.
We both said good night to Winter, and in spite of our host's efforts to persuade us to stay for another peg, Ifollowed Mannering out, declaring that I should never be able to face Mrs. Winter again if I kept him up any longer.
I found Mannering standing at the gate, and I paused beside him to glance at the sky, across which one or two fleecy clouds were hurrying from the west. The moon, brilliant as earlier in the evening, now hung low down over the horizon. The breeze had freshened, and we could hear it whispering amongst the trees.
"We shall not be long without rain. If the Pirate is still abroad he will leave tracks," said Mannering.
The beauty of the night held so much of appeal to me that I felt annoyed at the current of my thoughts being turned back to the topic.
I answered shortly. My companion took no notice of my petulance.
"You have always thought I cared nothing for speed," he remarked, "but you were mistaken. I thought I would keep my desires in the background until I had succeeded in perfecting a car which I knew it would be impossible to outpace. I could not enter into competition with longer purses than my own, and if I had bought the fastest car in the market somebody else would have bought one faster. But to-night—— By Jove! How I envy that Motor Pirate. Imagine what the possession of that car means on a night like this, with the roads clear from John-o'-Groat's to Land's End. Fancy flying onwards at a speed none have ever attempted. Can you not see the road unwinding before you like a reel ofwhite ribbon, hear the sweet musical drone of the wheels in your ears——" He stopped abruptly.
He must have observed my natural amazement at the intensity of feeling which his speech displayed, for he observed in a lighter tone—
"Not being Motor Pirates, however, the next best thing is, I suppose, to go to bed and dream that we are." He turned on his heel and strode away in one direction, while I went in the direction of my own home. But I was in no hurry to get there. The night was too delightful.
In the few hours which had elapsed since we had sat down to dine, a change had come over the face of the land. I could feel the presence of Spring in the air, and all the youth in me awoke. The creatures of the earth felt it too. In the silence of the night I could hear the crackle of the buds as they cast off their winter coverings, hear the whisper of the grass, which the countryman declares is the sound of growing blades, hear the murmur of all animate things as they rose to welcome the Springtide. My own heart leapt up with a renewal of hope. I stood awhile outside Colonel Maitland's door, and breathed a prayer that it might be my fortune to protect the fair inmate of the house from all harm through life. I strolled slowly to my own door, but I did not enter. Moonbeams beget love-dreams when one is still in the twenties.
Back again to the Colonel's house, back once more to my own. In all probability I should have continuedmy solitary sentry-go and my reverie until daybreak, had not my thoughts been sharply recalled to earth. On reaching my own doorway for the fifth or sixth time I had just turned, when I saw a black shadow on the road opposite the Maitlands' house. One glance was enough; it was the Motor Pirate again, and I began to count. "One—two—," the car passed me, "three—four;" it had vanished round a turning of the road in the direction of St. Albans.
Even what I had already experienced of the Pirate had not prepared me for such an exhibition as this. What Mannering had said about the delight of flying along an open road at a hundred miles an hour recurred to me. I had not deemed it possible. But I paced the distance between the Colonel's house and the bend where the strange car had passed out of sight. The distance was just about two hundred yards, and it had been covered as near as possible in four seconds. The car must have been travelling just about a hundred miles an hour.
I went straight indoors to bed. I am not ashamed to confess that I was not able to continue my dreams in comfort, while pacing the road, by the consideration of what would have happened to me had the Motor Pirate come along just two seconds before I happened to turn and see him.
I sleptuntil late the next morning. I have always been accustomed to a clear eight hours' sleep, and, as I did not get between the sheets until about four in the morning, I naturally did not awaken until mid-day. So what with my tub and the necessity for shaving, my early morning call upon the Colonel did not come off. I suppose, as a matter of fact, I sat down to breakfast just about the time when the gastronomic warrior was thinking of luncheon. However, when I saw how amply my expectation of a change in the weather had been fulfilled, I did not regret my lengthy sleep. From a sodden grey sky sheets of water were steadily pouring. There was not the slightest chance of any break in the clouds. Consequently I felt assured of finding Miss Maitland at home if I made my call in the afternoon, and since her father oftentimes thought it expedient to take a little repose after luncheon in order to prepare himself for the fatigue of dining, it was possible that I might even be fortunate enough to secure atête-à-têtewith her.
I came to my breakfast, therefore, with as good a spirit as appetite, neither being in the slightest degree affected by the memory of the easy way in which I had been plundered by the Motor Pirate. Of course I felt a certain chagrin. Still, I could contemplate the adventure with a considerable deal more equanimity than I had managed to display the night before, though I found that my curiosity concerning him had, if anything, increased. I turned with eagerness to the morning papers to see whether they could add to my knowledge concerning him.
As every one is aware, all the papers on the morning of the first of April that year devoted columns to his exploits. If I remember aright, the country was at that time engaged upon two of our usual minor wars, Parliament was in the midst of an important debate upon the second reading of a measure to secure an extension of the franchise, and a divorce case of more than common interest was engaging the attention of the leading legal lights of the law courts. But all these things received but the scantiest notice. The war news was relegated to the inside pages, the Parliamentary intelligence cut down to the barest summary, thecause célèbredismissed with such a paragraph as ordinarily serves to chronicle an unimportant police court case. The Motor Pirate had nearly a monopoly of the space at the editorial disposal. There was column after column about him. The Plymouth robbery was reported in as great detail as the Compton Chamberlain affair, while there were particularsof two similar outrages committed at points between these two places.
On running my eye over the reports I saw that they added nothing to what I already knew, and I wasted no time in reading the leaders on the subject. I was, however, extremely interested to find from one paper that Winter and I had not been the only victims of the scoundrel's rapacity on the previous evening, for a brief telegram reported a similar occurrence a few miles from Oxford on the London road. I at once sent my man to purchase any of the early editions of the evening papers which might have reached St. Albans, in the hope that they might contain further particulars of these operations.
I had finished my breakfast, and was enjoying a cigarette in my library, when he returned. I took the papers from him, and the first glance at one of them made me gasp with amazement. The news which startled me was all in one line—"Five more cars held up by the Motor Pirate."
I am not going into details concerning these. If you have a desire to refresh your memory all you have to do is to turn to any newspaper of the date I have named and you will be able to get themad nauseam. But I will venture to give a list of the places where and the times at which the outrages took place, for I made a list of them in the hope that, by carefully studying it with the map, I might get some idea as to where he might next be expected to make his appearance.
I found that at five minutes past nine he stopped a car some four miles from Oxford. Twenty minutes later he was robbing a lonely motorist midway between Thame and Aylesbury. Then for forty minutes he appeared to have been idle, his next two exploits taking place within five minutes of each other, just after ten, in the neighbourhood of Amersham. King's Langley was the scene of his next adventure, the time given being about a quarter of an hour before he had overtaken us. In addition to the particulars of these robberies there were a host of reports from people who had seen the Pirate car pass them on the road. But there was one notable omission from the latter list. Not from a single town was there any record of the Pirate having been seen passing through it.
I got a map of the district, and, after studying the country carefully, I was fain to confess that one of two things was certain: either the Motor Pirate had the power to make his car invisible at will, or else he had a truly phenomenal knowledge of the bye-roads. How he had even managed to get to Oxford, after his exploits in the West of England, without arrest, puzzled me. The car was so unique in shape that it seemed bound to excite observation. It could not have been put up at any hotel, any more than it could have been run through the country by daylight, without exciting remark and its presence being chronicled. What, then, had he done with it? The more I pondered the question the more puzzled I became, and at the same time the moredetermined to seek a solution of the mystery. But how? I made a dozen plans, all of which, upon consideration, appeared so futile, that I gave up the game in despair, and decided to see if my brain would not become clearer after I had paid my promised visit to Colonel Maitland.
I did not find Miss Maitland alone, as I expected, or I might probably have been tempted to confide my experience to her, and to have asked the assistance of her woman's wit in putting me on the track of a solution to the mystery. Mannering was with her. When I made my appearance in the drawing-room, and found him enjoying atête-à-tête, I cursed myself for delaying my call and thus giving him such an opportunity. My temper was not improved either by the discovery that they were sufficiently engrossed in conversation to have been able very well to dispense with my presence. I did not feel called upon to leave Mannering a clear field, however, so I joined in the discussion, and tried my hardest to be pleasant.
Of course, there was only one possible topic of conversation, the theme which was uttermost in every one's mind throughout the length and breadth of the land. It was a difficult subject for me to discuss, and in a measure it was a difficult subject for Mannering, inasmuch as it was hard to refrain from reference to the personal experience we had had with the Motor Pirate. It became increasingly difficult, when a few minutes after my arrival Colonel Maitland joined us.
"It was lucky for him he did not meet us, hey,Sutgrove?" said the Colonel. "You, Winter, and myself, would soon settle a Motor Pirate, wouldn't we?"
I muttered something which would pass for an assent, while Mannering shot an amused smile in my direction.
"I wonder though we saw nothing of him," continued Maitland; "he must have been very near us last night."
"He seems to have been everywhere," I answered.
"He has the ubiquity of a De Wet," said Mannering.
"I hope I shall have a chance of meeting him sometime," I continued grimly.
Colonel Maitland chuckled. "Heavens! What a fire-eater you are, Sutgrove. One might almost take you for a sub in a cavalry regiment."
I made no answer, and Miss Maitland remarked—"I think that is very unkind of you. You spoke of the Motor Pirate as if you owed him a grudge. I think we all ought to be supremely thankful to him for having made the wettest day we have had this year pass quite pleasantly."
Bear him a grudge? I should think I did, but at the same time, I had no intention of confessing the reason, so I said—
"Then we'll drink long life and prosperity to him the next time we have a bottle of that same port your father approved so highly last night." Then I turned to the Colonel, and made a clumsy attempt to turn the subject of conversation. "Is your verdict upon my restaurant equally favourable to-day, sir?"
Colonel Maitland's eyes twinkled. "I have nothing to regret. As for the port with which we finished, it seems to me the sort of stuff dreams are made of. Do you know that the glass I drank—was it one glass or two?—gave me the most vivid dream I have enjoyed since my childhood?"
"Indeed! Let's hear it, Colonel," I replied.
"Do tell us," said his daughter, as she rose from her seat, and put her arms coaxingly round her father's neck. "Do tell us like a real, good, kind, old-fashioned parent."
The Colonel passed his hand lovingly over his daughter's sunny hair.
"Sutgrove and Mannering don't want to hear about an old fellow's silly dreams," he said. "Besides, it was all about the Motor Pirate, and I can see that Sutgrove for one is quite sick of the subject."
I was, and I wasn't, but I speedily declared that I was not when I saw that his daughter was bent upon hearing the story. So he started upon a prosy description as to how the fresh air had sent him to sleep, not saying a word about the port, and I ceased to listen to him, preferring to devote the whole of my attention to his daughter, who had seated herself upon a footstool at his feet, and was looking up into his face with a pretty affectionate glance in her deep blue eyes, enough to set any one longing to be the recipient of similar regard. Her form, attitude, expression, all made so deep an impression upon me, that I have only to close my eyesat any time to see her just as she was then—the little witch! She knew full well how to make the most of her attractions, and though she has often declared since to me that the pose was quite unpremeditated, I could never quite believe her.
However that may be, I was so fascinated in watching her—there was one stray curl which lay like a strand of woven gold upon her brow. Confound it! It's all very well for the fellow who writes fiction for a living to write about people's emotions. He is cold himself. If he were like me, and wished to describe his own feelings, he might find himself in the same difficulty as myself, and give up the attempt.
The Colonel's voice droned on. Suddenly I awoke to the consciousness that he was speaking of me. I think it was the fact of his daughter looking at me which recalled me to attention.
"Sutgrove had just looked back to see if I was comfortable, when he saw another car on the road behind us. We had not long passed through Radlett. You know the straight stretch of road just past the new Dutch barn on the left——"
My attention did not wander any more, and you may imagine my astonishment at hearing the Colonel describe in minute detail everything which had befallen us upon the previous evening. He could tell a story when he liked, and on this occasion his description of the shamefaced manner in which Winter had scrambled out of his car, and had handed over his valuables to theMotor Pirate, was so ludicrous that I was compelled to laugh at the description. When my turn came to be described, Miss Maitland and Mannering were just as much amused, but I am afraid that my attempt to participate in their mirth was rather forced.
When the story was done, Miss Maitland rose from her seat at her father's feet, and, putting a hand on each of his shoulders—
"You dear, delightful old fibber!" she remarked. "I don't believe you dreamed that at all. You couldn't." Then she wheeled round on me. "Now tell me, Mr. Sutgrove, didn't that dream of father's really happen to you last night?"
What course was open to me but confession? I admitted the truth of the story, and the Colonel was so choked with merriment, that I feared lest he should be stricken with apoplexy.
"The cream of the joke," he explained, when he recovered his powers of speech, "was that neither Winter nor Sutgrove had the slightest idea that I was foxing. I intended to inform them directly we were clear of the Pirate; but when I heard them discussing the matter, and determining to keep silence out of tenderness for my reputation, I could not resist keeping up the joke."
"I should think it was their own reputations they were thinking about," said his daughter. "To submit so tamely to one man is not a very heroic proceeding."
I heard Mannering chuckle, and I felt mad. But I fancy it was not Mannering's amusement, but myown consciousness of the truth of the criticism that galled.
Colonel Maitland came to my rescue. "I thought they were very sensible," he said. "Even a cripple with a gun is better than six sound Tommies unarmed."
"Sensible—yes," she replied scornfully. "But there are times when one prefers a little less sense, and a little more—shall we say action. I am sure you would not have obeyed so tamely?" she continued, turning to Mannering.
He smiled, and I felt as if it would give me exquisite pleasure to catch him by the throat, and twist the smile out of his dark, handsome face.
"Really, Miss Maitland," he replied, "you flatter me. You should not be too hard on Sutgrove. I am sure that it was only the full comprehension of his own helplessness which prevented him making a fight of it. What could he have done?"
"Oh, a man should always know what to do!" she answered petulantly. "Has any one ever tried to hold you up?"
"Well, yes," he answered. "Once when I was out in the west of the States, some of the regulation bands tried the game on a train in which I was travelling. But then, you see, the conductor in the railway-car in which I happened to be seated had a six-shooter. So had I. The other passengers got as near the floor as they possibly could when the shooting began. I was in pretty good practice in those days, don't you know,so the other chaps didn't get much of a look in. We took the four they left behind them when they bolted on to the next station with us. Three of them were buried there, if I remember aright."
"There," said Miss Maitland, with an unmistakable look of admiration in her eyes; "I knew you were different."
"But then I was armed. If I had not been, I should have been on the floor with the other passengers."
In reply she merely gave him one glance. Mannering returned it with one equally eloquent. I rose, and stalked to the window. To me Mannering's championship was an aggravation which I could not bear. Harder still was it for me to observe the understanding which obviously existed between him and Miss Maitland. Hitherto I had imagined that I had as good a chance of winning her love as he had. But at this moment I felt that my hopes had been shattered.
I think if I had remained a moment longer in the room, I should have been unable to restrain an impulse to knock some of the self-sufficiency out of my rival. I left.
Colonel Maitland followed me out, and I heard him ask me to dine with him on the following day to wipe off the score he owed me.
Without thinking, I accepted. Then I went out into the rain.
AsI went away from the Maitlands' house I looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. Where I went, whether I trudged along the high road or tramped across country, I have not to-day the slightest idea. I was so enveloped in my own misery, that I was absolutely blind to all external objects. I could think of nothing but my dead hopes. So onward I went, stumbling and splashing through the mud, cursing Mannering, cursing the Motor Pirate, above all cursing myself for my own pusillanimity. Why had I listened to Winter? Why should I have allowed myself to be persuaded to play the part of coward, merely that Winter's car should have been saved from injury?
For a long while my thoughts were as aimless as my progress, but gradually out of the incoherence one idea crystallized. It was not an idea to be proud of. My bitterness of heart produced the natural result, that was all—a burning desire to be revenged upon somebody. I contemplated revenging myself upon everybody who had anything to do with my discomfiture, uponMannering, upon Colonel Maitland, upon the Motor Pirate. Finally my choice settled upon the person of the Pirate as the most suitable object; for, next to myself, he was primarily responsible for my having made so contemptible a figure.
Of course the decision was absurd. Decisions that are the outcome of any strong emotion usually are. But it fulfilled a useful purpose. It gave my mind something else to feed upon than contemplation of my own unhappiness. It brought me to myself.
To-day I can laugh when I recall the childishness of my actions, the outcome of the unreasoned promptings of my puerile jealousy. For when I came to the conclusion to avenge my sufferings upon the Motor Pirate, I suddenly became aware that it was pitch dark; that I was in the middle of a field; that I was soaked to the skin; that the rain was still falling heavily; and that I had not the slightest idea where I was. However, I added one more to the acts of folly I committed that day: I solemnly held up my hands to the dripping heavens and registered my vow of revenge. Then I pushed on again, but with my physical faculties on the alert to discover where I was.
I began, too, to feel the discomfort of my position, and became sensible of a sneaking wish to be before a comfortable fire. I crossed two or three fields, and eventually coming to a road I followed it, and, after paddling through the mud half a mile further, I struck a village, and in the village an inn.
When I opened the door and walked into the cheerful lamplight of the bar-parlour, the half-dozen occupants of the cosy little room stared at me with astonishment. Well they might. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass behind the bottles—if you have ever seen a corpse fished up by the drags from a river bed, you will be able to form some idea of the appearance I presented—so that I did not resent their stare. In fact, I was not in a condition to be able to pay much attention to the curious glances of the villagers. The warmth of the room together with the sudden cessation of exertion were for the moment too much for me, and it was as much as I could do to stagger to the nearest chair.
Fortunately the landlord was a man with some modicum of common sense. I am quite sure that I should have been unceremoniously ejected from nine public houses out of ten. But mine host of the White Horse—I learned afterwards that he had been whip to a well-known hunt in the West country—was able to distinguish between fatigue and drunkenness, and he came at once to my assistance. I heard him speak to me, but I was totally unable to respond. For a while indeed I must have verged upon unconsciousness, for the next thing of which I became aware was of a glass at my lips containing something sweet and strong.
I sipped. Then I drank. My consciousness returned. In a couple of minutes I could sit upright. The landlord was beaming at me with benevolent interest.
"Take another sup, sir," he said. "There's nothing like maraschino and gin when one is a bit overwrought. I've known many a gentleman in my part of the country who would take nothing else, after a hard day to hounds, to brace him up for those long ten miles home."
I took another sup, and a good one. Then my powers of speech returning, I asked where I was. I found I had not wandered nearly so far as I expected. I was barely six miles from my home—at King's Langley; but this fact was no criterion of the distance I must have traversed in my mad frenzy, for I saw by the clock that the hour was ten. It was about five when I left Colonel Maitland's house, so that I had been pressing onward for five hours in as wild a night as any on which I have ever been abroad.
I leaned back in my chair with the object of resting a few minutes before starting homewards. But, whether owing to the spirit I had swallowed, or to the heavy exertion I had undergone, or merely because of my intense mental fatigue, I felt drowsiness overcoming me so rapidly that I perceived it would never do for me to give way to it. Pulling myself together I rose to my feet, at the same time thrusting my hand into my pocket for the money to pay for my drink. The mere act of rising, however, was almost too much for me. My body felt as stiff as if I had been beaten all over. Only to move was absolute physical pain. I looked at the landlord.
"I'm afraid I am more knocked up than I thought. Can you manage a hot bath and a bed for me to-night?" I asked.
He glanced at me curiously, and, after a moment's consideration, he replied—
"I'll see what the missus'll say."
Luckily "the missus" said "Yes," so ten minutes later I was sluicing hot water over my aching limbs with a stable sponge in the bath which, I suspect, did duty on ordinary occasions for the family washing. Whatever it was, it did excellently well for my purpose. Gradually a delicious feeling of relaxation stole over me. I tumbled between the sheets and was asleep even before my host entered my room to take away my soaked clothing to be dried.
My sleep might have lasted one second. In point of fact I slept until nine o'clock the next morning, and should have continued to sleep if I had not felt a hand on my arm shaking me, and heard a voice bidding me arise. Fancying I was at home, and that my man was calling me, I said, "All right, Wilson," and turned over for another snooze.
"Now then, get up out of that!" said the voice. "None of your shamming! We are not to be put off that way."
It was not Wilson's voice. Wondering what was happening, I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes sleepily.
"What the deuce——!" I began. Then I stopped suddenly. A couple of constables in uniform stood atthe bedside, and I gathered that it was the voice of the sergeant which had so rudely disturbed my slumbers.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
"You know well enough," replied the sergeant. "You make haste and dress yourself and come along with us."
I thought my senses had deserted me.
"What in the name of good fortune for?" I asked.
"You're not going to kid us, my good feller," he answered. Adding facetiously, "If we puts a name to it and calls it piracy on the 'igh road, I wonder what you'll 'ave to say to it, remembering, of course, that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence against you."
Then all that had happened flashed across my mind; my strange appearance and arrival at the inn; my peculiar manner; my possession of plenty of money; the curious glances of the village folk; the fact that somewhere in the vicinity the Motor Pirate had last been seen. Under the circumstances, nothing could be more likely than that the bucolic intelligence should jump to the conclusion that I was the famous criminal. To me, however, the idea seemed so absurd that I fell into hearty laughter. My merriment seemed to annoy the sergeant, for he declared crossly that if I did not dress quickly, he would find himself under the necessity of taking me away as I was.
I thought it expedient to temporize, and as a resultof a little diplomacy, in which one of the coins from my pocket found another resting-place, I obtained permission to breakfast before I left.
I made a hearty meal, the landlord attending upon my wants. I was glad to see that he, at least, had no hand in thrusting upon me the indignity of being arrested. He explained as much, telling my captors they were making idiots of themselves. As he seemed trustworthy, I gave him Winter's address, with instructions to wire to him, telling him of my predicament, and asking him to come to my assistance.
Necessarily I gave the instructions in the presence of the policemen, and directly I had done so I could see that their cocksureness was shaken. They became more polite in their attitude, and the sergeant took the trouble to explain that he was acting under instructions, and had no option but to insist upon my accompanying him to Watford.
Into Watford I went accordingly. I am not going to dwell in any detail upon the incidents of the journey; I am naturally of a retiring disposition, and every circumstance attending my progress was in the nature of an outrage upon my diffidence. For instance, upon my departure from the inn, the whole of the population from King's Langley, so far as I could judge, had gathered about the door of the White Horse to give me a send-off. The crowd was in no sense a hostile one. The majority of its component parts, especially the more youthful units, seemed indeed to view me with admiration not unmixedwith envy. Only one yokel expressed disbelief in my identity.
"Ee ain't no pirut," he declared with unconcealed disdain, as he spat into the gutter. "Anybody can see he's only a toff."
I scarcely knew whether to be pleased with his conclusion or angry that he should find my personal appearance so unimpressive; and before I could make up my mind on the subject, I was seated in the trap provided for us and driven away seated between the two constables.
Our entry into Watford was still more in the nature of a triumph. Long before we reached the county police office I was wild enough, at being made such an exhibition of, to have given ten years of my life for the chance of punching the head of any one of the throng of gaping onlookers. Then, as a culminating blow to my pride, who should we meet at a point in the High Street where it was impossible to avoid recognition, but my rival Mannering in his trumpery old motor-car, accompanied by—above all persons in the world, the one I least desired to see—Miss Maitland.
I ground my teeth with rage, and as I alighted and followed the sergeant into the police station, I wished that I were the Motor Pirate in reality.
When I reached the presence of the officer in charge of the station I just managed to control my temper, though I fancy there must have been traces of my rage still visible in my voice as I demanded to know why a peaceable citizen should be subjected to such ignominy.
The inspector in reply merely asked me for my name and address.
Before meeting Miss Maitland I had cherished the hope that my identity would not be disclosed, but now I had no further reason for desiring to conceal it, I gave both at once.
The inspector quietly made a note of them, while another man in plain clothes, who was standing gazing out of the window, suddenly turned on me with the inquiry—
"How comes it, Mr. Sutgrove, that living at St. Albans you should choose to spend the night at a little inn at King's Langley?"
"I suppose I am at liberty to sleep where I like?" I retorted.
"Perfectly so," replied the stranger. "You will have no difficulty, I presume, in proving your identity?"
"Not the slightest," I said. "In fact I have already wired to a friend of mine—Mr. Winter, of Hailscombe, St. Albans—to come here for the purpose."
"I know Mr. Winter very well," said the inspector.
The stranger looked at me keenly, and when his scrutiny was completed he fell to whistling a bar of Chopin'sMarche Funèbre. Then he turned to his colleague in uniform.
"It's no go," he said. "This is not our man." Again he turned to me. "I am Inspector Forrest of Scotland Yard, detailed for special duty in connection with this Motor Pirate affair. Unfortunately I did not reachWatford until after arrangements had been made to bring you here, or—— I hope you will not take it amiss if we detain you until Mr. Winter's arrival."
This gave me the opening I had been wishing for, and I took it. I said a lot more than I can recall now, though I can remember a good deal. Most of it was to the effect that I would make somebody pay dearly for the annoyance to which I had been subjected.
Inspector Forrest listened patiently to me until I had finished.
"Come, come, Mr. Sutgrove!" he said then. "You must not bear any malice. Surely you must admit that appearances were not altogether in your favour," and he detailed to me the information which had led to my arrest. "You see," he said in conclusion, "that practically we had no option in the matter."
I dissented from his view. He said a word to the inspector in uniform, who left us alone in the room. Then he came close to me and remarked in a confidential tone.
"The fact is, our friend, who has just left us, has been too precipitate. You can make things exceedingly unpleasant for him if you like; but frankly, is it worth while? Think it over a little, bearing in mind that if we are to get hold of the Motor Pirate, we must take the chance of capturing the wrong man, since there is no description of him obtainable. You will not be the only one, I'll swear."
Since I had relieved my mind I felt better. BesidesI was rather attracted by the personality of the man who was speaking to me. He did not at all fulfil my idea of a detective. He was a tall, slight, stiffly built man, with a pleasant open face and an agreeable manner. I saw, too, that I had only my own folly to blame for the predicament in which I now found myself.
In another ten minutes he was smoking one of my cigars and we were chatting confidentially. Before twenty had elapsed, I had confided to him not only Winter's and my own experience with the Motor Pirate, but also the chain of events which had led to my spending the night at the inn. He was exceedingly sympathetic and quite grave throughout, though he appeared more interested in the encounter with the Pirate than in the account of my mental tortures. However, when I told him of my vow, he brightened up and asked me if I was still determined to keep it.
I had just assured him that I would willingly spend the rest of my life in the quest, when the other inspector entered the room and with him Winter. The latter came straight across to me and held out his hand, and never in my life was I so glad to see his honest face and beaming smile.
"What have you been up to now, Sutgrove?" he remarked. "Not emulating the deeds of the Motor Pirate?"
"The police have somehow arrived at the conclusion that I am that distinguished person himself," I replied ruefully.
He roared with laughter. It was infectious. There was no help for it. The two inspectors joined in the merriment, and the last of my anger was borne away on the flood.
There was of course no question of my further detention. In a few minutes I was seated beside Winter in his car, and we were making the mud fly as we dashed towards St. Albans.
Inspector Forrest accompanied us. I had promised to find him some lunch if he would do so, and to drive him back afterwards, and he was glad of the opportunity of obtaining from us such particulars as we could furnish him with concerning the person of whom he was in search.