The Watchers: A Novel

  CHAPTER V

  THE ADVENTURE IN THE WOOD

  A loud roll of drums beneath my windows, the inspiriting music oftrumpets, the lively measured stamp of feet. The troops with GeneralAmherst at their head were marching down St. James's Street on theirway to embark for Canada, and the tune to which they marched sang inmy head that day as I rode out of London. The beat of my horse's hoofskept time to it, and at Brentford a girl singing in a garden ofapple-trees threw me a snatch of a song to fit to it.

  She sang, and I caught the words up as I rode past. The sparkle ofsummer was in the air, and an Indian summer, if you will, at my heart.I slept that night at Hartley Row, and the next at Down House, and thethird at a little inn some miles beyond Dorchester. A brook danced atthe foot of the house, and sang me to sleep with the song I had heardat Brentford, and, as I lay in bed, I could see out of my window thestarlight and the quiet fields white with a frost of dew and thicketsof trees very black and still; and towards sunset upon the fourth day,I suddenly reined in my horse to one side and sat stone-still. To myleft, the road ran straight and level for a long way, and nowhere uponit was there a living thing; on each side stretched fields and no onemoved in them, and no house was visible. That way I had come, and Ihad remarked upon the loneliness. To my right, the road ran forwardinto a thick wood, and vanished beneath a roof of overhanging boughs.It was the aspect of that wood which took my breath away, and itsurprised me because it was familiar. There was a milestone which Irecognised just where the first tree overhung the road; there was awhite gate in the hedge some twenty paces this side of the milestone.I knew that too. Just behind where I sat there should be three tallpoplars ranged in a line like sentinels, the wood's outposts; Iturned, and in the field behind me, the poplars reached up against thesky. I had no doubt they would be there, yet the sight of them fairlystartled me. I had seen them--yes, but never in my life had I riddenalong this road before. I had seen them only on the map in my lodgingat St. James's Street.

  The sun dropped down behind the trees, and the earth turned grey. Isat there in the saddle with I know not what superstitious fanciesupon me. I could not but remember that the traveller had ridden intothe wood, and had not ridden out and down the open bank of grass uponthe other side. "What if his horse has stumbled?" Clutterbuck hadasked. "What if he is lying at the roadside under the trees?" I couldsee that picture very clearly, and at last, very clearly too, therider's face. I looked backwards down the road with an instinctivehope that some other traveller might be riding my way in whose companyI might go along. But the long level slip of white was empty. All thewarmth seemed to have gone from the world with the dropping of thesun. A sad chill twilight crept over the lonely fields. A shivercaught and shook me; I gathered up the reins and rode slowly among thetrees, where already it was night.

  I rode at first in the centre of the highway, and found the clatter ofmy horse's hoofs a very companionable sound. But in a little theclatter seemed too loud, it was too clear a warning of my approach, itseemed to me in some way a provocation of danger. I drew to one sideof the road where the leaves had drifted and made a carpet whereon Irode without noise. But now the silence seemed too eerie--I heard, andstarted at, the snapping of every twig. I strained my ears to catchthe noise of creeping footfalls, and I was about to guide my horseback to the middle of the road, when I turned a corner suddenly, andsaw in front of me in a space where the forest receded and let the skythrough, lights gleaming in a window.

  I set spurs to the horse and galloped up to the door. The house was aninn; the landlord was already at the threshold, and in a very shortwhile I was laughing at my fears over my supper in the parlour.

  "Am I your only guest to-night?" I asked.

  "There is one other, sir," returned the landlord as he served me, andas he spoke I heard a footstep in the passage. The door was pushedopen, and a young man politely bowed to me in the entrance.

  "You have a very pretty piece of horseflesh, sir," said he, as he cameinto the room. "I took the liberty of looking it over a minute ago inthe stables."

  "It is not bad," said I. There was never a man in the world who didnot relish praise of his horse, and I warmed to my new acquaintance."We are both, it seems, sleeping here to-night, and likely enough weare travelling the same road to-morrow."

  The young man shook his head.

  "I could wish indeed," said he, "that we might be fellow-travellers,but though it may well be we follow the same road, we do not, alas,travel in the same way," and he showed me his boots which were thicklycovered with dust. "My horse fell some half-a-dozen miles from hereand snapped a leg. I must needs walk to-morrow so far as where I trustto procure another--that is to say," he continued, "if I do not haveto keep my bed, for I have taken a devilish chill this evening," anddrawing up his chair to the empty fireplace, he crouched over animaginary fire and shivered.

  Now since he sat in this attitude, I could not but notice his boots,and I fell to wondering what in the world he had done with his spurs.For he wore none, and since he had plainly not troubled to repair thedisorder of his dress, it seemed strange that he should have gone tothe pains of removing his spurs. However, I was soon diverted fromthis speculation by the distress into which Mr. Featherstone's coldthrew him. Featherstone was his name, as he was polite enough to tellme in the intervals of coughing, and I told him mine in return. Atlast his malady so increased that he called for the landlord, andbidding him light a great fire in his bedroom said he must needs go tobed.

  "I trust, however," he continued politely to me, "that you, Mr.Berkeley, will prove a Samaritan, and keep me company for a while. ForI shall not sleep, upon my word I shall not sleep a wink," and he wasso positive in his assurances that, though I was myself sufficientlytired, I thought it no more than kindness to fall in with his wishes.

  Accordingly I followed him into his bedroom, where he lay in a greatcanopied bed, with a big fire blazing upon the hearth, and a bottle ofrum with a couple of glasses upon a table at the bedside.

  "It is an ague," said he, "which I caught upon the Gambia River, andfrom which I have ever since suffered many inconveniences;" he pouredout the rum into the glasses, and wished me with great politeness allprosperity.

  It was no doubt, also, because he had voyaged on the Gambia River thathe suffered no inconvenience from the heat of the room. But what withthe hot August night, and the blazing fire, and the closed window, Ibecame at once so drowsy that I could hardly keep my eyes open, and Iwished him good-night.

  "But you will not go," said he. "We are but this moment acquainted,and to-morrow we shall wave a farewell each to the other. Let us, Mr.Berkeley, make something of the meanwhile, I beg you."

  I answered him that I did not wish to appear churlish, but that Ishould most certainly appear so if I fell asleep while we talked,which, in spite of myself, I was very likely to do.

  "But I have a bottle of salts here," said he, with a laugh, as hereached out of bed and fumbled with his coat. "I have a bottle ofsalts here which will infallibly persuade you from any thought ofsleep," and he drew out from the pocket of his coat a pack of cards."Well, what do you say?" he continued, as I did not move.

  "It is some while since I handled a card," said I slowly.

  "A game of picquet," he suggested.

  "It is a good game," said I.

  He flipped the edges of the cards with his thumb. I drew nearer to thebed.

  "Well, one game then," said I.

  "To be sure," said he, shuffling the cards.

  "And the stakes must be low."

  "I hate a gambler myself."

  He cut the cards. I sat down on the bedside and dealt them.

  "It is your elder," said I.

  He looked disconsolately at his hand.

  "Upon my word," said he. "Deuce take me if I know what to discard. Ihave no hand for picquet at all, though as luck will have it I havevery good putt cards."

  I glanced through my hand.

 
"I have better putt cards than you," said I.

  "It is not likely," he returned.

  "I'll make a wager of it," I cried.

  "Your horse," said he, leaning up on his elbow. He spoke a trifle tooeagerly, he sprang up on his elbow a trifle too quickly. I lookedagain through my hand, and I laid the cards down on the counterpane.

  "No," said I quietly. "It is very likely you are right: I have twotreys and an ace, but you may have two treys and a deuce."

  "Why, this is purely magical," he exclaimed, with the most naturalburst of laughter imaginable. "Two treys and a deuce! Those are indeedthe cards I hold."

  He fell back again in the bed, and we played our single game ofpicquet. He won the game. Indeed, he could not but win it, for I paidno attention whatever to the cards which I held, or to how I shoulddraw, or--and this perhaps was my most important omission--to how Mr.Featherstone shuffled and dealt. The truth is, I had suddenly becomevery curious about Mr. Featherstone. I had recalled his greatpoliteness of manner. I remarked his face, which was of an almostgirlish delicacy. I reflected that here was a man in a great hurry totravel by the same road as myself, and I remembered how I had learnedthat trick by which he had tried to outwit me of my horse. Even as itwas I had all but fallen into the trap. I should most certainly havedone so had not Lieutenant Clutterbuck once explained it to me on aparticular occasion. I remembered that occasion very clearly as I saton the bed playing this game of picquet by the light of a singlecandle, and I wondered whether I could fit Mr. Featherstone withanother name.

  "I am afraid," said he, "that this is a capote," as I played my lastcard.

  "But the loss is trifling," said I, "and I have kept my horse."

  "Very true," said he, whistling softly between his teeth. "You havekept your horse," and as I wished him good-night, he added, "you willbe careful to shut the door behind you, won't you?"

  But before the words were out of his mouth, he was seized with soviolent a paroxysm of shivering that he could barely stammer out theend of the sentence.

  "These infernal fevers," said he, with a groan.

  "I notice, however," I returned, "that they are intermittent," andlatching the door as he again requested me, I went off to my own room.

  I could not but wonder what trickery the fire was intended to help,for until the last fit of the ague had seized him, he had given nosign of any sickness since he had brought out the cards. However,there was a more important question to occupy my mind. I had littledoubt that Mr. Featherstone was Cullen Mayle: I had little doubt thathe was hurrying as fast as he could to the Scillies, since he hadreceived no answer to the message which he sent with the negro. Butshould I tell him of the men who watched for his coming, keeping theirwatches as at sea? On the one side their presence meant danger toCullen Mayle, it could hardly mean anything else; and since it meantdanger he should be warned of it.

  On the other hand, the watchers might have tired of their watching andgiven it up as profitless. Besides I was by no means sure in whatlight Cullen himself was to be regarded. Was his return to Tresco, aprospect to be welcomed or deplored? Did he come as a friend to thatdistracted girl alone in the lonely house by the sand? I could notanswer these questions. I knew Cullen to be a knave, I knew that thegirl cared for him, and these two items made the sum of my knowledge.I turned over in my bed and fell asleep, thinking that my course mightbe clear to me in the morning.

  And in the morning it was clear. I woke up with a mind made up. I hada horse; Cullen travelled on foot; since he had come so far on foot,it was not likely that he had the money to purchase a horse, for thestory of the stumble and the broken leg I entirely disbelieved, andwith the best of reasons. I had travelled myself along that roadyesterday, and I had passed no disabled horse upon the way. I hadtherefore the advantage of Cullen. I would journey on without saying aword to him of my destination. I would on arriving take council withDick Parmiter and Helen Mayle and seek to fathom the trouble. I shouldstill have time to cross back to the mainland and hinder Cullen fromattempting the passage.

  Thus I planned to do, but the plan was never put to the test ofaction. For while I was still dressing, a loud hubbub and confusionfilled the house. I opened my door. The noise came from the directionof Cullen's room. I hastily slipped on my coat and ran down thepassage. I could hear Cullen's voice very loud above the rest, a womanor two protesting with a shrill indignation and the landlord trying tomake all smooth, though what the bother was about I could notdistinguish.

  It seemed that the whole household was gathered in the room, thoughMr. Featherstone still lay abed. The moment that I appeared in thedoorway,

  "Ah! here's a witness," he cried. "Mr. Berkeley, you were the last toleave me last night. You closed the door behind you? I was particularto ask you to close the door?"

  "I remember that very well," said I, "for I was wondering how in theworld you could put up with the door closed and a blazing fire."

  "There!" cried Featherstone turning to the landlord. "You hear? Mr.Berkeley is a gentleman beyond reproach. He shut the door behind him,and this morning I find it wide open and my breeches gone. There is athief, sir, in your inn, and we travellers must go on our way withoutbreeches. It is the most inconsiderate theft that ever I heard of."

  "As for the breeches, sir," began the landlord.

  "I don't care a button for them," cried Featherstone. "But there wasmoney in the breeches' pockets. Fifteen guineas in gold, and a coupleof bills on Mr. Nossiter, the banker at Exeter."

  "The bills can be stopped," said the landlord. "We are but eighteenmiles from Exeter."

  "But how am I to travel those miles; do you expect me to walk there inmy shirt tails. No, I stay here in bed until my breeches are found,and, burn me, if I don't eat up everything in the house," andimmediately he began to roar out for food. "I will have chops at once,and there's a great sirloin of beef, and bring me a tankard of smallale."

  Then he turned again to me, and said pathetically,

  "It is not the breeches I mind, though to be sure I shall cut aridiculous figure on the highroad; no, nor the money, though I havenot a stiver left. But I woke up this morning in the sweetestgood-humour, and here am I in a violent passion at nine o'clock in themorning, and my whole day spoilt. It is so discouraging," and he layback upon the pillow as though he would have wept.

  The landlord offered him his Sunday breeches. They were of red cloth,and a belted earl might wear them without shame.

  "But not without discomfort," grumbled Mr. Featherstone, contemplatingthe landlord who was of a large figure. "They will hang about me inswathes like a petticoat."

  "And as for the fifteen guineas," said I, "my purse is to that amountat your disposal."

  "That is a very gentlemanly offer, Mr. Berkeley," said he, "from onestranger to another. But I have a horror of borrowing. I cannot acceptyour munificence. No, I will walk in my host's red cloth breeches asfar as Rockbere, which to be sure is no more than twelve miles, quitepenniless, but when I reach my friends, upon my word, I will make sucha noise about this inn as will close its doors, strike me dead andstiff, if don't."

  His threat had its effect. The landlord, after the usual protestationsthat such an incident had never occurred before, that he had searchedthe house even to the servants' boxes, and that he could make neitherhead nor tail of the business, wound up his harangue with an offer offive guineas.

  "It is all I have in the house, sir," said he, "and of course I shallcharge you neither for food nor lodging."

  "Of course not," said Mr. Featherstone indignantly. "Well, I must makethe best of it, but oh! I woke up with so happy a disposition towardsthe world;" and dismissing the women he got up and dressed. Thelandlord fetched the five guineas and his red cloth breeches, whichFeatherstone drew on.

  "Was ever a man so vilely travestied?" he said. "Sure, I shall betaken for a Hollander. That is hard for a person of some elegance,"and he tied his cravat and went grumbling from the room.

  "This is a great misfortune, sir, for me,"
said my host. "I have livedhonest all my days. There is no one in the house who would steal; onthat I would stake my life. I can make nothing of it."

  "Mr. Featherstone is quite recovered from his ague," said I slowly. Icrossed over to the empty fireplace heaped with the white ashes of thelogs which had blazed there the night before.

  "The fire no doubt did him some benefit."

  "That is precisely what I was thinking," said I, and I knelt down onthe hearth-rug and poked amongst the ashes with the shovel. Suddenly,the landlord uttered an exclamation and threw up the window. I heardthe clatter of a horse's hoofs upon the road. I got up from my kneesand rushed to the window. As I leaned out Mr. Featherstone rodeunderneath and he rode my horse.

  "Stop!" I shouted out.

  "Mr. Berkeley," he cried, airily waving his hand as he rode by, "youmay hold very good putt cards, but you haven't kept your horse."

  "You damned thief!" I yelled, and he turned in his saddle and put outhis tongue. It is, if you think of it, a form of repartee to whichthere is no reply. In any case I doubt if I could have made any replywhich would have reached his ears. For he had set the horse to agallop and was far down the road.

  I went back to the hearth where the landlord joined me. We both kneltdown and raked away the ashes.

  "What's that?" said I, pointing to something blackened and scorched.The landlord picked it up.

  "It is a piece of corduroy."

  "And here's a bone button," said I. "The ague was a sham, the fire adevice to rob you. He came here without a penny piece and burnt hisbreeches last night. He has robbed you, he has robbed me, and he willreach the Scilly Islands first. How far is it to Rockbere?"

  "Twelve miles."

  "I must walk those twelve miles?"

  "Yes."

  "Will I get a horse there?"

  "It is doubtful."

  "He has a day's start then at the least."

  So after all, though the horse did not stumble, nor the rider liequiet by the roadside, he did not ride out of the forest at a gallop,and down the green bank into the open space beyond.