“The letter fluttered to the ground and I sprangto her side. She had fainted.”The Tower Rooms] [Page 201
“The letter fluttered to the ground and I sprangto her side. She had fainted.”The Tower Rooms] [Page 201
CHAPTER XVII FIND A LUCKY SIXPENCE
AS soon as I was in dry things I slipped into Mrs. McNab’s room, my heart thumping. All through our voyage I had pictured her waking up and needing me: perhaps alarming the household, perhaps thrown into anxiety by reading my note. There were a dozen unpleasant possibilities, and I had explored them all.
But luck had held for me throughout that evening. She lay just as I had left her hours before, breathing deeply and regularly: the tray was untouched beside her, the note in its original fold. I pocketed it thankfully and went to bed—to wake with a start in the early dawn.
I threw on a dressing-gown and went across to Mrs. McNab’s room. She was lying awake and greeted me with a smile.
“You should not be up so early,” she said. “No, I am quite comfortable and better, and I have taken some jelly. And I feel cheerful, though I do not know why. I went to sleep so miserable, but a comforting dream came to me: a dream in which I saw Ronald, safe and happy and good. Is it not curious that I should have such a happy dream, just when all our plans for him are ruined!”
“I don’t know,” I said, and smiled at her “I think it was a sensible dream, sent as a warning.”
“I would like to think so,” she said wistfully. “But everything is so dark and uncertain now, and I do not know how to plan.”
I suppose I grinned idiotically, for suddenly her face changed. She looked at me keenly, rising on her elbow.
“Miss Earle, you have something to tell me! You—you did not break your promise to me!”
“I did not,” I said. “To go alone was what I promised not to do, and I didn’t go alone. I took Judy and Jack with me, bless their dear hearts: they think we were assisting a gentleman named—possibly—Smith, and they asked no questions, and will ask none in the future. Thanks to the darkness they never saw his face. And we landed your brother at Southport before midnight, dear Mrs. McNab, and his money and everything. There wasn’t a hitch, and he’s well on his way to the Adelaide line, I hope.”
For a full minute she lay and looked at me without speaking. Then she suddenly put her face into the pillow and broke into a passion of sobs.
“Oh!” I uttered, horribly alarmed. “Oh, please don’t. Mrs. McNab, dear! I shouldn’t have told you in such a hurry, but you guessed so quickly that something had happened.” Dismally I felt that I had been a failure, and I nearly howled, myself. “I—I thought you’d be glad!”
She put out her hand to me, as if groping, her face still hidden. I held the hot hand tightly while the sobs grew less, and she struggled to command herself.
“Glad!” she said presently. “Glad! When a burden of misery is suddenly lifted glad is such a poor little word! My dear—my dear—what am I to say to you?”
“Why, nothing at all,” I said, greatly relieved. “It was the very easiest little job, thanks to Judy and Jack. I had scarcely to do anything: they ran the launch, and I was a mere passenger. They were hugely delighted at the adventure.”
“But will they say nothing?”
“They will not say a word, even to you. I have told them it is not a matter to be discussed; that the man on the Island was a friend we were helping, and that he wanted to get to Southport last night. I can trust Judy and Jack—when they have given their word nothing on earth can shake it. They understood that the matter was confided to them on condition that they should keep silent and ask no questions, and they are very proud of being trusted.”
She drew a long breath.
“Sit down, and tell me everything that happened,” she begged. “Every little detail.”
I did so, touching very lightly on the rough journey home—hoping that she would not ask me if her brother had sent her any message. Probably she knew that a gentleman of Ronald Hull’s type would have no thought for anyone but his precious self, for I had no awkward questions to dodge.
“It was all so simple and straightforward that there really is very little to tell,” I finished. “I asked Mr. Hull not to speak in the boat, so that there would be no risk of the children’s recognizing his voice: and I was so anxious to get back in case you needed me, that we didn’t lose a moment. It was just a pleasure-trip. You don’t mind that I took the children? Indeed, I meant to ask you, but you had gone to sleep before I could do it.”
“I don’t mind anything,” she said. “There is no room in my heart for anything but the utmost relief and gratitude; how could there be when my burden is rolled away?” And she clung to my hand, and said a great many things I couldn’t write down in cold blood—it made me feel an utter fool to listen to them. I only know I was very thankful when she stopped.
“Now, you are to go back to bed at once,” she said. “Do not worry about me any more: you shall see how quickly I can get better now.” And indeed, she looked almost like a girl, her cheeks flushed, and a light of happiness in her eyes. “Julia can do anything for me—she is very kind. I should be really glad if you would spend all day in bed.”
One does not do such things if one is a governess-head-companion with buffering thrown in as a side-line. But I did sleep like a log until the dressing-gong boomed, and Judy and Jack pounded on my door begging me to go down for a swim. It gave one a thrill to run across the paddock as we had run the night before: to see the launch rocking lazily by the pier. Bence was busy in her. Jack scampered over to speak to him, dived in from the pier-head, and swam round to meet us, with his face one broad grin of impish joy.
“Bence is as wild as a meat-axe!” he said cheerfully. “Says it’s no good cleaning out the launch every day when people ’liberately pour water into her at night! She really is awfully messy: that last big sea we shipped put gallons and gallons of water into her.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said it was a jolly shame,” Jack chuckled. “ ’Tis, too—poor old Bencey! I say, Miss Earle, haven’t you got anyone for us to go out and rescue to-night?” He turned head-over-heels in the water, dived underneath Judy, and pulled her under by the leg. I left them arguing the matter out below the surface.
There was no holding my Fellow-Members of the Band that day. Their night adventure had left them wild with excitement; they rioted like mad things until I decided that exercise was the only possible treatment, packed up a billy and sandwiches, and took them out for a long day in the bush, leaving Mrs. McNab to the care of Julia, who liked nothing better than to have some one ill enough to be fussed over. Miles from home we came upon Dr. Firth, walking slowly through the scrub with his big Airedale at his heels. He looked gloomy enough before he saw us, but his face lit up when Judy and Jack hailed him joyfully.
“I was just deciding that treasure-hunting was a poor sort of game,” he said. “This is about the tenth attempt I’ve made at scientific detective-work: I try to put myself in the position of a burglar leaving my house with his loot, desirous of avoiding all roads and tracks, and of finding a safe hiding-place until excited policemen have calmed down sufficiently to make it safe for him to get away. With this profound idea in our minds Sandy and I strike out across country and look for tracks!”
“I say—that’s a jolly game!” cried Judy.
“It is quite a jolly game,” he agreed. “Sandy entirely approves of it. It has given us a great deal of fresh air and exercise, and our health has benefited enormously—you can see for yourself how well Sandy looks!” He pulled the Airedale’s ears. “But so far as finding the jewels goes, it doesn’t seem to lead anywhere. That doesn’t trouble Sandy, but it is hurtful to my pride. It would give me unbounded pleasure to be able to flourish my property before those two superior detectives, remarking airily, ‘I told you so!’ ”
“I think you need help,” Judy told him kindly. “Say we go with you and lend a hand?”
“Say I go with you, and forget all about the wretched old jewels,” he responded. “I think it would do me good to have the cheerful society of you three merry people for a day. I don’t seem to have had a moment free from the worry of them for the last week. By the way, my detectives have a fresh thrill; they went out boating before breakfast, and landed on Shepherd’s Island.”
Jack jumped, and Judy favoured him with a threatening glare.
“What’s up, Jack?” inquired Dr. Firth.
“Trod on a stick,” mumbled Jack, his face the colour of a beetroot. I felt that mine resembled it, and could only hope that Dr. Firth would put it down to sunburn.
But Judy did not turn a hair.
“What did they land for?” she inquired politely. “A picnic?”
“I think life is all a picnic to those two plump and worthy men,” Dr. Firth responded. “I suppose they landed as a measure of exploration. They came back in some excitement, though, to breakfast—nothing makes my two sleuth-hounds forget their meals. A man has been camping in the old hut, they say: they found blankets there. Indeed, for all they know, he is still on the Island.”
“But I suppose anyone may camp there?” I asked. “It isn’t private property.”
“Of course—dozens of people may use it, for all I know. However, the detectives have made up their minds that he is their man, and off they went after breakfast, to explore it thoroughly. I only hope they won’t arrest some perfectly innocent holiday-maker and bring me his scalp!”
I did not dare to look at the children. They fell behind, affecting to examine a plant, and I heard smothered shrieks of glee. For myself, I found it difficult to listen to what my companion was saying: my brain was all a-whirl. If we had not gone last night——! And then I fell to wondering if anything that might be found on Shepherd’s Island would bear marks that would be incriminating. The blankets, I knew, were plain Army grey ones; the food-tins, even if discovered, were only such as might be bought at any good store, and I knew Mrs. McNab had always ordered them from Melbourne. Ronald Hull would have hidden them carelessly: there was no hope that they would not be found by the detectives. Well, I could only hope that Mrs. McNab’s prudence had guarded against supplying evidence. She had had long enough to practise prudence, poor soul.
We camped beside a little creek, boiled the billy, and shared our lunch with Dr. Firth; fortunately, I had learned that it was wise to provide amply for Judy and Jack’s appetites, and there were plenty of sandwiches. Then Sandy dashed into the bush, to appear presently in triumph with a rabbit, which he laid at his master’s feet. The sight of the little, limp body filled Judy and Jack with ambition to fish for yabbies, and Dr. Firth skilfully dissected a leg for each, while they tied strings to tea-tree sticks. Then they sat, supremely happy, on the bank, dangling their grisly baits, and drew up numbers of the hideous little fresh-water crayfish, which they stowed in the billy, with a view to supper. I had uneasy visions of Mrs. Winter’s probable comments on the addition to her larder.
Dr. Firth and I sat under a tree, listening to their ecstatic yells, and talked. It was always easy to talk to him: each time we met seemed to show me more clearly what a friend I had found. Always he wanted to hear more and more of Colin and Madge, and of our life since we had lost Father; he knew all about the little Prahran flat, about Madge’s music and her examination successes, and about Colin’s dearness to us both. We laughed over our amateur housekeeping and over Colin’s droll stories of his office—Colin had always made a joke of it, though Madge and I knew well enough how sorely he hated it. And then the talk would swing back to Father, and he would tell me stories of the youth they had spent together, until I felt that I knew Father better than I had ever done before, and had even greater cause for pride than I had dreamed of. The future, that had been so drab to us, seemed quite different now. Hardship and work there must be, of course, but not the loneliness that had walled us round since Father had gone away.
We had been so deeply engrossed that we had not noticed that the children had tired of fishing and had disappeared, leaving their rods on the bank beside the billy that was half full of squirming captives. I looked at my watch when we discovered their absence, and came back with a start to the realization of my duties.
“We ought to be making a move homeward,” I said. “I don’t want Mrs. McNab to be worried about us.”
“Oh, they won’t be far off,” Dr. Firth said.
He sent a long coo-ee ringing through the scrub. A faint answering sound came, and following it, we went along the creek bank, to be greeted presently by the spectacle of Judy and Jack perched in a tree that partly overhung the water. Jack was feeling his way along a dead bough towards a hole that might or might not contain a parrot’s nest. I cried out in alarm at sight of him, for the branch was rickety, and the ground below did not invite a fall—it was strewn with loose rocks, some of which had tumbled bodily into the creek.
“Do be careful, Jack!” I called. “That branch isn’t safe.”
“P’f! It’s as safe as houses!” said Jack airily. “Don’t bother a chap, Miss Earle—women are always fussy. I only want to get to this good old nest, and then I’ll——”
There was a splintering crack and the branch sagged down suddenly. Jack clung to it for a moment while I ran towards him wildly; then he fell, as I made an ineffectual attempt to catch him. It failed, but it broke his fall. We went down to the ground together. A loose rock on the edge gave under us, and we rolled down the bank amid a scatter of stones and loose earth, ending with our feet in the creek.
We were both up in a moment, laughing. Dr. Firth’s alarmed face peered over the bracken-fringed bank above us.
“Anyone hurt?”
“Nothing but a few scratches,” I answered. “But we seem to have brought down half the bank—it’s a regular avalanche. I don’t believe we can get up there, Jack.”
“Oh, can’t we!” Jack uttered. “Bet you I can. I’ll go ahead, Miss Earle, ’n’ then I can pull you up.”
“You needn’t trouble,” I thanked him. “I prefer a place where it’s a little cleaner. Not that that matters much, since we rolled down!” I looked ruefully at my earth-stained frock.
“Well, I’ll show you!” said Jack sturdily.
He scrambled up, sending down showers of small stones and loose soil, while I watched him, half expecting him to come sliding back to my feet. Just as he neared the top, my eye caught sight of a tiny object half hidden in our miniature avalanche—something that shone faintly. I stooped forward and picked up a bright sixpence.
“Take care, Jack—you are dropping your money,” I called.
“Me?” inquired Jack, from the top. “Not me—I never had any. What’s the use of bringing money out in the bush? Did you find any?”
“I found sixpence,” I answered. “That’s good luck for me, at all events. I wonder how it came here.”
“Might be more lying about,” suggested Jack. “Have a look.”
I glanced up at him, laughing.
“If I find a silver-mine, I’ll buy you that yacht you were talking about. What did you say her tonnage——?”
Something made me break off suddenly. There was a little recess in the bank, just under his laughing face: a recess only revealed since we had sent the rock that guarded it crashing down the bank. Something glimmered in it faintly. I went up the broken bank even more quickly than Jack had done, while the others sent a fire of laughing questions at me. Putting my hand into the recess I drew out—an old tobacco-tin.
“Whatever have you got there, Doris?” Dr. Firth asked.
“Somebody’s ’baccy,” I answered, laughing, scrambling up over the edge. “I suppose some poor old swagman has made acachehere. I must put it back.”
“You might look at it first,” he said quietly. But there was something in his voice that made me glance at his face. I sat down on the ground and got the lid open.
There was not tobacco inside, but moss—old soft moss, tightly rammed down. It might well have contained a fisherman’s worms, but at the moment I didn’t think of that, or I might not have acted as I did. I shook it all out, with a jerk, into my lap. Dr. Firth caught his breath in a gasp and the children gave a shout.
There was more than moss. Hidden among it were things that glittered and sparkled in the sunlight—rough-cut rubies and emeralds and sapphires, and softly-gleaming turquoises that bore the scratches of the tool that had hewn them hurriedly from their setting. They twinkled at us, lying among the soft bronze-green of the moss: Dr. Firth’s stolen jewels! I sat and stared at them stupidly.
“You said they were magic!” shrilled Judy delightedly. “Oh, well done you, Miss Earle!”
“There should be more,” said Dr. Firth quietly. “Pack them up again, Doris, and let us see where you found them.”
We went over the edge in a body. There were two other little tobacco-tins in my hole, packed in the same way, stowed well under a rock. Half of it had broken away, and even then, only the smallest corner of the first tin had been visible—but for the lucky avalanche that Jack and I had brought down no one would ever have found that hiding-place, even if it had been years before the thief came back to remove his booty.
“I wouldn’t have seen it at all if he had left the paper wrapping on the tin,” I said. “It was the little gleam of metal that caught my eye.”
“That was a small detail of extra carefulness,” Dr. Firth said. “People have been tracked down before now by leaving something of which the purchase could be traced. He was a careful burglar, bless him!”
“He wasn’t so smart when he dropped his sixpence!” exulted Jack. “It was the sixpence that started you looking, Miss Earle.”
“It was. I was just turning away to look for a better place to get up when I saw it half under a stone.”
“You ought to keep that sixpence for luck,” said Judy solemnly. “Oh, Dr. Firth, are you going back to wave the jewels at the detectives? Do let us come too! I’d love to see their faces!”
“I shan’t be in too much of a hurry,” he said, smiling. “It might be as well to see what their new clue amounts to. Possibly there is something suspicious about that Shepherd’s Island camper, after all.”
My heart gave a sudden sick leap. What if there were?—if it had indeed been Ronald Hull who had hidden the jewels under the bank, trusting to luck some day to come back and retrieve them! What if his willingness to go to Adelaide were only a blind?—if he meant not to leave Australia at all, but only to get out of immediate danger here? I thought of poor Mrs. McNab’s face that morning, ten years younger in her utter relief and thankfulness, and I shivered to think that her misery might not be over yet.
“We’ll keep the matter to ourselves for a day or two, at any rate,” Dr. Firth was saying. “You won’t say a word, children?”
“Cross-our-hearts!” said Judy and Jack in chorus.
“That’s all right. I’ll see what the detectives have to say; and meanwhile I’ll put a man of my own to watch this place, in case the man who planted those jewels comes back. Keep out of this part of the bush, you two, until I see you again.”
They promised, wide-eyed. Life was indeed full of glory this week for little Judy and Jack McNab.
“But you won’t wave them at the detectives without us?”
“Cross-my-heart!” said he solemnly. “I’ll bring you and Miss Earle over, and you shall do the waving yourself, and see the sleuth-hounds collapse before you! And now, if you are ready, I think we’d better get home. I shall feel easier in my mind when these three tobacco-tins are locked away in my safe.”
CHAPTER XVIII USE A POKER
TO anyone who watched unseen, our progress homeward would undoubtedly have presented itself as peculiar. Dr. Firth’s suggestion that the jewels would be more secure in his safe filled Judy and Jack with a vision of the thief coming to find his hidden booty. They scented danger in every clump of scrub, and earnestly demanded of Dr. Firth whether he had a revolver.
“Certainly I have—an excellent one,” he answered. “It’s in its case at home.”
“Fancy you coming out to look for the jewels without it!” rebuked Judy. “I never heard of anything so careless. And if you meet the thief he’s simply certain to be armed to the teeth!”
“I shall defy him to his teeth—even if false!” said the Doctor stoutly.
“Precious lot of good defying would be if he had a six-shooter!” growled Jack, who looked with a lofty scorn upon all literature that did not deal with the Far West. “Why, you’re as good as a dead man if he gets the drop on you! I think each of us three ought to take a tobacco-tin and scoot—he’d never suspect any of us.”
“It’s a noble idea, but I like the feel of them in my pockets,” responded the Doctor cheerfully. “I must e’en take my chance. Do you really think any modest burglar is going to be foolhardy enough to attack four desperadoes like ourselves—to say nothing of Sandy?”
“He’d pot you from behind a tree as soon as look at you,” said Judy, with gloom. “Anyhow, Jack, you and me’ll go ahead and scout. And you bring up the rear, Miss Earle—you might walk backwards as much as you can, in case he tries to stalk us from behind!”
We obeyed. Thus might have been seen two small forms flitting through the trees, peering in every direction: halting now and then, with lifted hand, to scan a possible danger-point: then, reassured, darting off to right or left, to reappear presently, perhaps examining a hollow stump, perhaps up a tree to obtain a wider view. In the rear, I endeavoured to be as sleuth-like as possible—dutifully walking backwards whenever I fancied they glanced in my direction, wherefore I twice sat down heavily on a tussock. In my next expedition of the kind the rear will be a position I shall carefully shun. Between our two forces, Dr. Firth stalked majestically, his chest thrown out, his hands clenched over his pockets—looking rather like Papa inThe Swiss Family Robinson. Sandy was the only one of the party on whom life sat lightly. He hunted rabbits with a joyous freedom that I envied greatly.
We parted where the track branched off towards The Towers. Judy and Jack were profoundly uneasy at letting Dr. Firth continue his journey alone, preferring to risk the loss of their dinner rather than let him go home unguarded. It took all our persuasion, coupled with the reminder that their mother would certainly be worried about them, to induce them to say good-bye. They beguiled the way back to The Towers with the dreariest predictions of what might be expected to happen to him and the jewels deprived of their vigilance and mine.
We were very late for dinner, but Mrs. McNab had not worried. I do not think, that day, that she was capable of worrying. She was a different woman: there was a new light in her eyes, a little colour in her cheeks; her voice had lost the hard ring that had made it so repellent. Julia reported that she had taken her food like a Christian, and that you’d hardly know her, for the spirit she had on her. “ ’Tis bein’ forced away from the owld writin’,” said Julia. “If I’d me way the divil a pen she’d see between now an’ Patrick’s Day!”
She made us sit in her room after dinner while the children told her about their day. It was nervous work, for the discovery of the jewels was naturally uppermost in their minds, and just as “all roads lead to Rome,” so every topic we chose seemed only to merge into that crowning achievement of the day. Luckily, their mother was too blissfully content to notice occasional stumbling and hesitation. She gave them ready sympathy and outward attention, but I knew that half her mind was so busy rejoicing that she did not hear half they said.
As for Judy and Jack, they noticed nothing of her abstraction. They were only amazed at the change in her. I found them discussing it in bed when I went out on the balcony to tuck them in.
“Never knew Mother so jolly,” said Jack. “Did you, Miss Earle? She was all smiling and int’rested—and generally about three minutes of us is all she can stick!”
“She looked so pretty, too,” Judy added. “Her eyes were all big and soft. Miss Earle, you do really think she’s better, don’t you?” The child put her hand out and drew me down beside her. “She—she made me frightened,” she said, with a catch in her voice. “You don’t think she’s going to be very ill, do you?”
“No, she isn’t,” I answered quickly—not very sure of my own voice. “She’s really ever so much better: in a few days she will be up. Mother has had a great deal of worry for a long time, old Fellow-Members, and now I hope that worry has gone.”
Jack made a spring across from his bed and snuggled down beside Judy and me.
“Miss Earle—was the worry something to do with—with the job we helped you with last night?”
“Yes, it was. But you aren’t going to ask questions.”
“No, of course not. But I just wanted to know that much. It wasn’t any harm just to ask that, was it?”
“No, indeed it wasn’t, old man. You earned that, you and Judy.”
“I’m glad I know,” Judy said. “Will the worry ever come back! I do hope it won’t, ’cause I’d love Mother to stay like she is now.”
“I don’t think it will,” I said: I spoke stoutly, but again there was that sick fear at my heart. “It has been terribly hard for Mother to carry on, because she couldn’t bear anyone but herself to have the worry.”
“And things you keep to yourself are ever so much beastlier,” observed Judy. “Do ask Mother to tell us, after you’ve gone, if it comes back, Miss Earle. We might be able to help.”
“And anyhow, we’d take care of her,” said Jack. “We’d make her a Member of the Band, if she’d like—only somehow, she’s never seemed exactly Band-y before. She’d be a simply ripping Member if she stays like she is to-night!”
He gave a great yawn, stood up, and dived back to his own bed.
“I’m awful sleepy,” he said. “But we’ve had two wonderful adventures, haven’t we, Ju? These have been the best two days of my whole life!”
“Me, too,” said Judy.
Would the worry ever come back! The fear was strong on me as I sat by my window before going to bed. Do as I might I could not shake off the feeling that Ronald Hull had not done with us yet. Why, I asked myself, should he go to America, when in Australia he had a sister ready to beggar herself and risk disgrace to protect him? And if this last dread were true—if it were he who had hidden the jewels in the hole under the bank of the creek—was it to be expected that he would leave the country without them? The evil face, with its cold eyes, seemed to hover before me in answer. Whatever happened, Ronald Hull would consider nobody in the world but himself.
I was very tired, and when I went to bed sleep came to me almost at once, and I dreamed a cheerful dream that Colin and I were chasing Mr. Hull across a paddock that ended in a precipice. We knew it was there, and so did he, and he tried to break back and escape; but Colin had not been a footballer for nothing, and he headed off every rush, countered every dodge, edging him on all the time: until at last Mr. Hull gave it up, and, running wildly and calling out unpleasant things, reached the edge of the cliff and sprang out in mid-air, twisting and turning as he fell, but never dropping his cigarette from his lips. He disappeared far below, and I woke up. I do not think it was a lady-like dream, but I felt astonishingly light-hearted. I knew how Sandy felt when he caught his rabbit.
I was just dropping off to sleep again when a sound fell upon my ears. It was so faint that at first I thought I was mistaken; then it came again, more distinctly, and I sat up, very wide-awake. Surely, some one was calling for help—a child’s voice.
I sprang out of bed, flung on my dressing-gown and slippers, and ran out into the corridor. Something was happening downstairs: there was no light save that of the moon, but I heard a scuffle, and a man’s voice, low and furious. And then another, and it was Jack’s, crying, “Let go, you brute!” At that I lost my head altogether. Any sensible person would have summoned Harry McNab and his friends. But I fled downstairs without stopping to think, and, following the sounds, dashed into the library.
There were two figures there in the moonlight: Jack, in his pyjamas, a slight thing in the grip of a tall man who was trying to silence him. I heard an oath and a low-voiced threat, as I picked up the poker and struck at him. He let Jack go, turning on me savagely. I dodged his blow, struck again, and felt the blow go home: heard Jack crying out, “Look out, Miss Earle—he’ll kill you!” It seemed very likely, as he rushed at me; but that was no reason for letting him kill Jack.
We circled round each other warily for a moment. Then he made another rush, and Jack sprang in between us and gripped him by the legs. He fell heavily over the boy: I sprang again, and hit wildly, caring not where I hit, and only wishing there were more strength in the blows. And then came another little figure—Judy, who flung herself across the struggling man, pounding wildly with her fists. I saw her thrown aside, and she did not move. Came racing feet, and the voice of Julia—“Let me at him, the murdherin’ vilyun!” as I hit with my last ounce of strength, and staggered back.
“Sit on his head, Julia!” shrilled Jack.
“I will so,” said Julia: and did.
I saw Jack crawling away, and flung myself across the struggling legs. We thrashed backwards and forwards on the floor, Julia keeping up a steady flow of threats, mingled with remarks addressed to the saints. And then the light was switched on, and the room was full of voices—men’s voices, tense and angry. I could not see any of them: I was trying feebly to keep my hold, knowing I was done. Something like a thunderbolt caught the side of my head. Then came blackness and silence.
CHAPTER XVIIII LOSE MY SITUATION
IREMEMBER a dream of pain that seemed to last for years: a dream in which lights flashed back and forth perpetually behind my eyes, and all the time there was a buzz of low voices; it troubled me greatly that I could never hear what they said. Then the dream faded, and there was something cool and wet on my forehead: I tried to tell them how good it was, but I seemed to have no tongue, so I gave up the attempt and went to sleep instead. And after years more of sleep I woke up in a room of dim twilight: and it was the most natural thing in the world to see Colin sitting beside my bed.
He saw my eyes open, and gave me his own old smile.
“Better, old girl?” He held something to my lips, and I drank thirstily.
“Is it time to start for school?” I whispered.
“Not nearly,” he said. It was an immensely comforting statement to me. “Go to sleep again, kiddie.” And I went obediently.
He was there the next time I awoke, but it was morning this time. They told me afterwards that for three days and nights he scarcely ever left my side, sitting just where I could see him if my eyes opened. No one could ever guess how beautiful it was to see him there. I grew to wondering would he still be there, before my heavy lids lifted: to be almost afraid to lift them, in case he should have gone away. But always his smile was ready for me, and I would drift away to sleep again, trying to smile back.
Then one day I woke up with my brain quite clear, and the desire for sleep all gone. Colin put his fingers on my wrist, and I lay watching a little ray of sunlight that crept in by the blind and fell across his crisp hair. He did not take his eyes from me, but spoke to some one I could not see.
“All right,” he said quietly. “Come along and say good morning to her, Madge.”
Madge came—which also seemed a most natural thing. She kissed me very gently and stood back with her hand on Colin’s shoulder, and I grinned foolishly at them both.
“I’ve had a tremendous sleep,” I said, “and all sorts of queer dreams. And I’m ever so hungry!”
“That’s much better to think about than the dreams,” said Colin. He put out a long arm and mysteriously produced some jelly, with which he fed me like a baby. It was wonderfully good, and I ate six spoonfuls, and then discovered that I wasn’t as hungry as I had thought. So I went to sleep again, holding a hand of each.
It was quite a long while before they would let me talk about what had happened in the library. They thought I did not remember much about it at first, which was quite wrong: I remembered everything until the stunning blow that put me out of action. But I did not know what I dared ask. You see, I had never seen the thief’s face clearly, but his height and build were the same as Ronald Hull’s. In my mind, as I lay finding my strength again, I was quite sure that that estimable gentleman had returned to pick up a little more loot.
Judy and Jack were safe—I knew that, because they came and peeped at me every day and brought me flowers. And Julia also: she swept and polished my room, and showed much hatred and jealousy of the stern little trained nurse who wouldn’t let her do the dusting. But when I asked feebly for Mrs. McNab they told me she was still too ill to get up; the shock of the attempted robbery at The Towers had evidently made her worse. So I held my peace as best I could, outwardly, though in my mind I ached to know if Ronald Hull were the individual I had so heartily battered with the poker. If so—well, I trembled for Mrs. McNab, but I was glad I had done the battering.
Then, one day, Mrs. McNab came in, in her dressing-gown, looking like a tall ghost: and Colin slipped out and left us alone. She kissed me and sat down by my bed.
“Tell me——” I whispered.
“Tell you what, my dear?” She bent towards me.
“Did they get him?”
“Whom do you mean, Doris dear?” She looked puzzled.
“Your brother. Did the police get him?”
A great relief flashed into her face.
“Ronald! Oh no. He got quite safely away from Adelaide. His friend wrote to me after the ship had sailed: there had been no difficulty at all. That worry is ended, thank God!”
“Oh!” I said weakly. “Then it wasn’t he—in the library? I thought it was.”
“In the library? You—you don’t mean the burglar? Why, my dear child, that was Bence!”
“Bence! Not the chauffeur?” Bence had always been especially civil to me. I felt a guilty pang, remembering how hard I had tried to hit him with the poker.
“Yes, it was Bence. He turned out to be a very well-known criminal—the police had been looking for him for some time. He was responsible for all the robberies; some of Dr. Firth’s property was found in his room, in addition to the jewels you children discovered in the bush. He has made a full confession.” She looked at me doubtfully. “Will it excite you to hear about it?”
“It will excite me far morenotto hear,” I said truthfully. “I’ve been lying here for days, aching to see you: there was no one else I dared to ask. Do tell me. Did I hit him very hard?”
“You got in one lucky blow that dazed him, and a good many that hurt him a good deal. But for that I do not know what would have happened to you and the children. As it was, Julia seems to have arrived just in time, for he was getting his wits back. I don’t know that anyone is certain of what actually happened—you were all struggling in the darkness, and Judy was stunned. But just as Harry and Dicky arrived and turned on the lights he kicked you with tremendous force on the head: I don’t know whether he meant it, or if it were done blindly in his struggles.”
“I think it must have been that,” I said. “Bence was always very courteous!”
Mrs. McNab gave a short laugh.
“He was past being courteous just then. The blow sent you flying, and the other side of your head crashed into the carved leg of a table. Then, of course, the boys mastered him easily enough, aided by Julia, who fought with great fury. He was rather badly knocked about—they were all beside themselves, seeing you and Judy unconscious. Judy was quite well in half an hour. But you have been a more serious matter—though we shall soon have you as strong as ever.” And then she put her grey head down on my hand, and I felt it wet with her tears.
“And you got Colin and Madge for me! That was ever so dear of you.”
“That was the least we could do. Dr. Firth managed it for us: they were here next day. I think they rather wanted to kill us all at first, but they have forgiven us now. I have told Colin everything, Doris—about my brother and Shepherd’s Island. It was right that he should know. And though he was naturally distressed at all that you have undergone, I do not think he blames me—perhaps not as much as I blame myself. ‘I don’t see what else you could have done,’ he said. He has been wonderfully kind to me. It is easy to see why you are so proud of him.”
“Well—yes,” I said. “There never was anyone like Colin.”
She smiled at me.
“Colin seems to have the same conviction about you,” she said. “Here he comes: I am told he is terribly stern if your visitors stay too long. Julia says he is the one person of whom the nurse is afraid!”
Colin came in and stood at the foot of the bed, very tall and good to look at. We laughed at each other.
“I thought my patient might be tired,” he said. “But you are doing her good, Mrs. McNab.”
“I was worrying over something that Mrs. McNab has explained to me,” I said. “Now I shan’t worry any more. Colin, isn’t it a good thing you made me practise boxing with you? I should never have landed my best efforts on Bence if it hadn’t been for that!”
He stared at me.
“Why, I thought you had forgotten all about it,” he said. “Have you been lying there gloating in secret over your savagery?”
“Something like that,” I laughed. “I feel I ought to have done better—but a dressing-gown does cramp one’s style with a poker!”
He laughed too, but there was something in his eyes that brought a lump into my throat.
“You blessed old kid!” he said softly. That was a good deal for Colin to say, and it told me more than if anyone else had talked for a week.
They brought me downstairs a few days later, looking very interesting in a wonderful blue teagown that Mrs. McNab had ordered for me from Melbourne. Colin carried me, for my knees still bent under me in the most disconcerting fashion when I tried to walk, and put me on a lounge in the garden, with a rug over my feet. Most of the house-party had gone away, but there were enough left to make quite a crowd, after my quiet time in my room, and they all made a ridiculous fuss over me. Dicky Atherton and Harry McNab plied me with unlimited offers of food. Even Beryl was quite human; she brought me my tea herself, and actually ran for an extra cushion. It was all very disconcerting, but when I got used to it, it was lovely to be outside again. Judy and Jack had planted a huge Union Jack at the head of my couch. They sat down, one on either side of me, and declined to yield their positions to anyone. “You may think you own her,” Judy said to Colin, her nose in the air. “But we’re the Band!”
It was some days after when they took me out for my first drive. I could walk now, and I was dressed, even though Madge did say my clothes looked as if they were draped on a bean-pole: but they still took great care of me, and anyone would have thought I was really important, to see how Julia tucked the rug round me and slipped a little soft pillow behind my back. “ ’Tis lookin’ well ye are, thank God!” she said, regarding the effect judicially. “Let ye go aisy, now, over the bumps, sir. There’s a pot-hole in the road beyant, that Bence druv me into wan time; an’ ’twas a mercy the lid was on the car, or it’s out I’d have been. I have the bump on me head yet!”
“I will, Julia,” said Colin, at the wheel. “Quite ready, Mrs. McNab?” as she took her place beside me. “Hop in, Madge.” We slid off gently, leaving Julia waving from the steps.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that first drive. The country was all dried-up, for no rain had fallen for weeks: but even the yellow paddocks were beautiful to me, and every big red-gum tree seemed to welcome me back. As we mounted the headland above Porpoise Bay the sea came in sight, blue and peaceful, with little flecks of white foam far out, and here and there the brown sails of a fishing-boat. The islands were like jewels on its bosom. I looked at the green hills of Shepherd’s Island, and thought of the night—how long ago it seemed!—when the children and I had taken off our silent passenger, and of how narrowly we had escaped running upon its rocks as we raced home before the driving storm. It had been a wild enough venture, but it had succeeded; and it had given me the two best little comrades anyone need want. Never were allies stauncher than my Fellow-Members of the Band.
The drive was only a short one: Dr. Firth had asked us to afternoon tea, saying that the distance was quite long enough for my first outing. He seemed curiously young and happy as he ran down the steps to meet us. Already he and Colin and Madge were firm friends. I liked to watch him whenever his eyes rested on Colin. They made me think of Father’s eyes, full of pride in a son.
The housekeeper came out to welcome me, and we had tea in the verandah, among the ferns and palms. After we had finished, Mrs. McNab took out her knitting and settled herself comfortably in a lounge-chair.
“I know you want to show these children the house,” she said. “I will sit here, if you don’t mind, Dr. Firth. Be sure you do not let Doris become tired. I heard her tell Colin this morning that her knees were still ‘groggy.’ Of course, I can only guess at the meaning of that expression—still——!” She laughed at me as I pulled down the corners of my mouth.
“I’m afraid I’m pretty hopeless as a governess,” I said contritely.
“So hopeless that I fear we’ll have to find you other occupation,” said the Doctor, laughing. He patted my shoulder. “Come and give me your opinion of my spring-cleaning.”
The big house was very different now. The rooms that had been full of cabinets and showcases were re-furnished: one a billiard-room, with a splendid new table, the other a very charming sitting-room, dainty, yet homelike, with comfortable chairs and couches, a piano, a writing-table, and low book-cases full of enticing-looking books. I exclaimed at it.
“What a jolly room!”
“This is a home-y room, I think,” the Doctor said, looking round it with satisfaction. “The drawing-room is too big and gorgeous for ordinary use: I’m afraid of it. Later on I may become brave enough to go into it, but it needs to be furnished with dozens of people. Oh, well, perhaps that can be arranged in time. Now come and see where the wild beasts lived.”
There were no grim beasts and reptiles now. Instead, the room was bare, with a shining new floor—a floor that instinctively made one’s feet long to dance. There was a little stage at one end for musicians: big couches near the walls, where hung some fine old paintings. A double door opened into a long conservatory. And that was all.
“Oh, what a ballroom!” Madge cried.
“Will it do?” he said.
“I should think it will! Isn’t it just perfect, Doris?”
“It is, indeed,” I said. “Do ask us to come when you give a ball, Dr. Firth.”
“I will—if you will promise to give me the first dance. After that I’ll let the youngsters have a chance, and take my place meekly with the aged; but the first dance is my perquisite. Now I want to show you some other rooms. Is she strong enough for the stairs, do you think, Colin?”
“Not to be thought of, with groggy knees!” said my brother. He picked me up as if I were a baby and strode upstairs with me, disregarding my protests.
“Yes, you’re putting on a little weight,” he said, setting me gently on the landing. “Nothing to speak of, of course, but you’re rather more noticeable to carry than you were a week ago—upstairs, at any rate. Where next, sir?”
“Here,” said the Doctor.
He led us into one bedroom after another. A man’s room first, with a little iron bedstead, big chairs, a heavy writing-table and book-cases, and plenty of space. Next, a dainty room, all furnished in pink, where roses sprawled in clusters on the deep cream ground of an exquisite French wall-paper. From it opened a bare, panelled room, the sole furniture of which was a grand piano and three chairs.
“Why, that’s the twin to your Bechstein, Madge!” I said.
Madge astonished me by suddenly turning scarlet.
“Is it?” she said awkwardly.
“Don’t stay to argue over pianos,” Dr. Firth said. “There’s another room to see.”
It was a very lovely room. A little carved bed stood in an alcove under a broad casement-window; all the colouring was delicate blue and grey, and it was full of air and sunlight. The furniture was of beautiful grey silky-oak: the chintzes were faintly splashed with pink here and there, and there was pink in the cushions on the great Chesterfield couch. Never, I think, was there so dainty a room.
“One has to ask a lady’s permission before one sits down in her room,” said Dr. Firth, with a twinkle. “May we sit down in your apartment, Doris?”
“Mine?” I stammered. And then I saw Colin’s face, and I knew there was something I had not been told.
Colin came with one stride, and put me on the big couch.
“Listen, Dor, old girl,” he said. “Dr. Firth has been making great plans: he’s such a strenuous planner that it isn’t the least bit of use to argue with him, I find. They are very wonderful plans for us.” And then the big fellow fairly choked. “I think you’d better go on, sir,” he managed to say.
“I’m a very lonely man, Doris,” the Doctor said. “I’ve no one belonging to me in the world, and far too much money for one man to use. And you three are the children of the best friend I ever had, to whom, at one time, I owed everything. Wherefore, I am about to adopt you. I may say, I have already adopted you. I don’t know how one does it legally, but I’m very sure no one is going to get you away from me.”
I could only look from him to Colin: and Colin’s face was very grave and very happy. So I knew it was all right.
“Colin is a stiff-necked person,” the Doctor went on. “I have had most tiring arguments with him, thanks to his abominable pride. Thank goodness, I think I have succeeded in making him see that Denis Earle’s son, cut out for a doctor if ever a fellow was, is thrown away in an insurance office. As a matter of principle, it is all wrong. So Colin is going back to the University to take his degree——”
“Oh!” I cried. “Colin—Colin!” I put my head against his coat and simply howled. He held me very tightly. I believe he wasn’t much better himself, big as he is.
“Madge is going to be a boarder for a couple of years. Personally, I don’t want her to be a very learned lady and fag herself to a shadow with innumerable examinations; but as to that, you three must settle the matter and do as you think best. But she can go as far as she likes with her music, with my full approval, if only she’ll come home here and play to me on her Bechstein whenever she gets a chance.”
Madge was perched on the arm of his chair. She leaned across and kissed the top of his head airily.
“Thank you,” said the Doctor. “I believe we can consider that signed and sealed. As for you, we have told Madame Carr that she can find some one else for her twelve-year-olds. I want some one to look after me and make this place the sort of home we want it to be whenever Colin and Madge can come back to us. It’s only a house at present, but I rather think it will be a home when you are here.”
“And you can’t argue, Dor,” Madge said wildly. “ ’Cause we’ve sub-let the flat in Prahran!” She hurled herself on me. “Say you’ll agree, Dor. It’s going to be just perfect!”
I looked at Colin.
“It’s for you to say,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you like, old Dor. I wasn’t tired of your housekeeping, you know—only of seeing you at it.” He gave a big sigh. “To think of you in a place like this—not tired and worried any more!”
“To think of you,” I said—“with your degree. Not washing saucepans?”
“Then may we call it a bargain?” the Doctor said.
I went over to him and kissed him just where Madge had kissed him.
“Signed and sealed,” he said contentedly.
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