CHAPTER XVIII
THE LOCHINVAR METHOD
As Jimmy sat smoking a last cigarette in his bedroom before going tobed that night, Spike Mullins came in. Jimmy had been thinkingthings over. He was one of those men who are at their best in alosing game. Imminent disaster always had the effect of keying himup and putting an edge on his mind. The news he had heard that nighthad left him with undiminished determination, but conscious that achange of method would be needed. He must stake all on a singlethrow now. Young Lochinvar rather than Romeo must be his model. Hedeclined to believe himself incapable of getting anything that hewanted as badly as he wanted Molly. He also declined to believe thatshe was really attached to Lord Dreever. He suspected the hand ofMcEachern in the affair, though the suspicion did not clear up themystery by any means. Molly was a girl of character, not a femininecounterpart of his lordship, content meekly to do what she was toldin a matter of this kind. The whole thing puzzled him.
"Well, Spike?" he said.
He was not too pleased at the interruption. He was thinking, and hewanted to be alone.
Something appeared to have disturbed Spike. His bearing was excited.
"Say, boss! Guess what. You know dat guy dat come dis afternoon--deguy from de village, dat came wit' old man McEachern?"
"Galer?" said Jimmy. "What about him?"
There had been an addition to the guests at the castle thatafternoon. Mr. McEachern, walking in the village, had happened uponan old New York acquaintance of his, who, touring England, hadreached Dreever and was anxious to see the historic castle. Mr.McEachern had brought him thither, introduced him to Sir Thomas, andnow Mr. Samuel Galer was occupying a room on the same floor asJimmy's. He had appeared at dinner that night, a short, wooden-facedman, with no more conversation than Hargate. Jimmy had paid littleattention to the newcomer.
"What about him?" he said.
"He's a sleut', boss."
"A what?"
"A sleut'."
"A detective?"
"Dat's right. A fly cop."
"What makes you think that?"
"T'ink! Why, I can tell dem by deir eyes an' deir feet, an' de wholeof dem. I could pick out a fly cop from a bunch of a t'ousand. He'sa sure 'nough sleut' all right, all right. I seen him rubber in' atyouse, boss."
"At me! Why at me? Why, of course. I see now. Our friend McEachernhas got him in to spy on us."
"Dat's right, boss."
"Of course, you may be mistaken."
"Not me, boss. An', say, he ain't de only one."
"What, more detectives? They'll have to put up 'House Full' boards,at this rate. Who's the other?"
"A mug what's down in de soivants' hall. I wasn't so sure of him atfoist, but now I'm onto his curves. He's a sleut' all right. He'svally to Sir Tummas, dis second mug is. But he ain't no vally. He'scome to see no one don't get busy wit' de jools. Say, what do youset'ink of dem jools, boss?"
"Finest I ever saw."
"Yes, dat's right. A hundred t'ousand plunks dey set him back.Dey're de limit, ain't dey? Say, won't youse really--?"
"Spike! I'm surprised at you! Do you know, you're getting a regularMephistopheles, Spike? Suppose I hadn't an iron will, what wouldhappen? You really must select your subjects of conversation morecarefully. You're bad company for the likes of me."
Spike shuffled despondently.
"But, boss--!"
Jimmy shook his head.
"It can't be done, my lad."
"But it can, boss," protested Spike. "It's dead easy. I've been upto de room, an' I seen de box what de jools is kept in. Why, it's desoftest ever! We could get dem as easy as pullin' de plug out of abottle. Why, say, dere's never been such a peach of a place forgittin' hold of de stuff as dis house. Dat's right, boss. Why, lookwhat I got dis afternoon, just snoopin' around an' not really tryin'to git busy at all. It was just lyin' about."
He plunged his hand into his pocket, and drew it out again. As heunclosed his fingers, Jimmy caught the gleam of precious stones.
"What the--!" he gasped.
Spike was looking at his treasure-trove with an air of affectionateproprietorship.
"Where on earth did you get those?" asked Jimmy.
"Out of one of de rooms. Dey belonged to one of de loidies. It wasde easiest old t'ing ever, boss. I just went in when dere was nobodyaround, an' dere dey was on de toible. I never butted into anyt'in'so soft."
"Spike!"
"Yes, boss?"
"Do you remember the room you took them from?"
"Sure. It was de foist on de--"
"Then, just listen to me for a moment, my bright boy. When we're atbreakfast to-morrow, you want to go to that room and put thosethings back--all of them, mind you--just where you found them. Doyou understand?"
Spike's jaw had fallen.
"Put dem back, boss!" he faltered.
"Every single one of them."
"Boss!" said Spike, plaintively.
"Remember. Every single one of them, just where it belongs. See?"
"Very well, boss."
The dejection in his voice would have moved the sternest to pity.Gloom had enveloped Spike's spirit. The sunlight had gone out of hislife.
It had also gone out of the lives of a good many other people at thecastle. This was mainly due to the growing shadow of the day of thetheatricals.
For pure discomfort, there are few things in the world that cancompete with the final rehearsals of an amateur theatricalperformance at a country-house. Every day, the atmosphere becomesmore heavily charged with restlessness and depression. The producerof the piece, especially if he be also the author of it, develops asort of intermittent insanity. He plucks at his mustache, if he hasone: at his hair, if he has not. He mutters to himself. He givesvent to occasional despairing cries. The soothing suavity thatmarked his demeanor in the earlier rehearsals disappears. He nolonger says with a winning smile, "Splendid, old man, splendid.Couldn't be better. But I think we'll take that over just once more,if you don't mind." Instead, he rolls his eyes, and snaps out, "Oncemore, please. This'll never do. At this rate, we might just as wellcut out the show altogether. What's that? No, it won't be all righton the night! Now, then, once more; and do pull yourselves togetherthis time." After this, the scene is sulkily resumed; andconversation, when the parties concerned meet subsequently, is coldand strained.
Matters had reached this stage at the castle. Everybody wasthoroughly tired of the piece, and, but for the thought of thedisappointment which (presumably) would rack the neighboringnobility and gentry if it were not to be produced, would haveresigned their places without a twinge of regret. People who hadschemed to get the best and longest parts were wishing now that theyhad been content with "First Footman," or "Giles, a villager."
"I'll never run an amateur show again as long as I live," confidedCharteris to Jimmy almost tearfully. "It's not good enough. Most ofthem aren't word-perfect yet."
"It'll be all right--"
"Oh, don't say it'll be all right on the night."
"I wasn't going to," said Jimmy. "I was going to say it'll be allright after the night. People will soon forget how badly the thingwent."
"You're a nice, comforting sort of man, aren't you?" said Charteris.
"Why worry?" said Jimmy. "If you go on like this, it'll beWestminster Abbey for you in your prime. You'll be gettingbrain-fever."
Jimmy himself was one of the few who were feeling reasonablycheerful. He was deriving a keen amusement at present from themaneuvers of Mr. Samuel Galer, of New York. This lynx-eyed man;having been instructed by Mr. McEachern to watch Jimmy, was doing sowith a thoroughness that would have roused the suspicions of a babe.If Jimmy went to the billiard-room after dinner, Mr. Galer was thereto keep him company. If, during the course of the day, he hadoccasion to fetch a handkerchief or a cigarette-case from hisbedroom, he was sure, on emerging, to stumble upon Mr. Galer in thecorridor. The employees of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency believedin earning their salaries.
Occasionally,
after these encounters, Jimmy would come upon SirThomas Blunt's valet, the other man in whom Spike's trained eye haddiscerned the distinguishing marks of the sleuth. He was usuallysomewhere round the corner at these moments, and, when collidedwith, apologized with great politeness. Jimmy decided that he musthave come under suspicion in this case vicariously, through Spike.Spike in the servants' hall would, of course, stand outconspicuously enough to catch the eye of a detective on the look outfor sin among the servants; and he himself, as Spike's employer, hadbeen marked down as a possible confederate.
It tickled him to think that both these giant brains should be sogreatly exercised on his account.
He had been watching Molly closely during these days. So far, noannouncement of the engagement had been made. It struck him thatpossibly it was being reserved for public mention on the night ofthe theatricals. The whole county would be at the castle then. Therecould be no more fitting moment. He sounded Lord Dreever, and thelatter said moodily that he was probably right.
"There's going to be a dance of sorts after the show," he said, "andit'll be done then, I suppose. No getting out of it after that.It'll be all over the county. Trust my uncle for that. He'll get ona table, and shout it, shouldn't wonder. And it'll be in the MorningPost next day, and Katie'll see it! Only two days more, oh, lord!"
Jimmy deduced that Katie was the Savoy girl, concerning whom hislordship had vouchsafed no particulars save that she was a ripperand hadn't a penny.
Only two days! Like the battle of Waterloo, it was going to be aclose-run affair. More than ever now, he realized how much Mollymeant to him; and there were moments when it seemed to him that she,too, had begun to understand. That night on the terrace seemedsomehow to have changed their relationship. He thought he had gotcloser to her. They were in touch. Before, she had been frank,cheerful, unembarrassed. Now, he noticed a constraint in her manner,a curious shyness. There was a barrier between them, but it was notthe old barrier. He had ceased to be one of a crowd.
But it was a race against time. The first day slipped by, a blank,and the second; till, now, it was but a matter of hours. The lastafternoon had come.
Not even Mr. Samuel Galer, of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, couldhave kept a more unflagging watch than did Jimmy during those hours.There was no rehearsal that afternoon, and the members of thecompany, in various stages of nervous collapse, strayed distractedlyabout the grounds. First one, then another, would seize upon Molly,while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their pertinacity.
At last, she wondered off alone, and Jimmy, quitting his ambush,followed.
She walked in the direction of the lake. It had been a terribly hot,oppressive afternoon. There was thunder in the air. Through thetrees, the lake glittered invitingly.
She was standing at the water's edge when Jimmy came up. Her backwas turned. She was rocking with her foot a Canadian canoe that layalongside the bank. She started as he spoke. His feet on the softturf had made no sound.
"Can I take you out on the lake?" he said.
She did not answer for a moment. She was plainly confused.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I--I'm waiting for lord Dreever."
Jimmy saw that she was nervous. There was tension in the air. Shewas looking away from him, out across the lake, and her face wasflushed.
"Won't you?" he said.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
Jimmy looked over his shoulder. Down the lower terrace wasapproaching the long form of his lordship. He walked with pensivejerkiness, not as one hurrying to a welcome tryst. As Jimmy looked,he vanished behind the great clump of laurels that stood on thelowest terrace. In another minute, he would reappear round them.
Gently, but with extreme dispatch, Jimmy placed a hand on eitherside of Molly's waist. The next moment, he had swung her off herfeet, and lowered her carefully to the cushions in the bow of thecanoe.
Then, jumping in himself with a force that made the boat rock, heloosened the mooring-rope, seized the paddle, and pushed off.