Jeanne of the Marshes

  CHAPTER XI

  The two men sat opposite to one another separated only by the smallround table upon which the dessert which had followed their dinner wasstill standing. Even Forrest's imperturbable face showed signs of theanxiety through which he had passed. The change in Cecil, however, wasfar more noticeable. There were lines under his eyes and a flush uponhis cheeks, as though he had been drinking heavily. The details of histoilette, usually so immaculate, were uncared for. He was carelesslydressed, and his hair no longer shone with frequent brushings. Helooked like a person passing through the rapid stages of deterioration.

  "Forrest," he said, "I cannot stand it any longer. This place issending me mad. I think that the best thing we can do is to chuck it."

  "Do you?" Forrest answered drily. "That may be all very well for you, acountryman, with enough to live on, and the whole world before you. Asfor me, I couldn't face it. I have passed middle age, and my life runsin certain grooves. It must run in them now until the end. I cannotbreak away. I would not if I could. Existence would simply beintolerable for me if that young fool were ever allowed to tell hisstory."

  "We cannot keep him for ever," Cecil answered gloomily. "We cannot playthe jailer here all our lives. Besides, there is always the danger ofbeing found out. There are two detectives in the place already, and Iam fairly certain that if they have been in the house while we havebeen out--"

  "There is nothing for them to discover here," Forrest answered. "Ishould keep the doors open. Let them search if they want to."

  "That is all very well," Cecil answered, "but if these fellows hangabout the place, sooner or later they will hear some of the storiesthese villagers are only too anxious to tell."

  Forrest nodded.

  "There," he said, "I am not disinclined to agree with you. Hasn't itever struck you, De la Borne," he continued, after a moment's slighthesitation, "that there is only one logical way out of this?"

  "No!" Cecil answered eagerly. "What way? What do you mean?"

  Forrest filled his glass to the brim with wine before he answered. Thenhe passed the decanter back to Cecil.

  "We are not children, you and I," he said. "Why should we let a boylike Engleton play with us? Why do we not let him have the issue beforehim in black and white? We say to him now--'Sign this paper, pledgeyour word of honour, and you may go.' He declines. He declines becausethe alternative of staying where he is is endurable. I propose that wesubstitute another alternative. Drink your wine, De la Borne. This is achill house of yours, and one loses courage here. Drink your wine, andthink of what I have said."

  Cecil set down his glass empty.

  "Well," he said, "what other alternative do you propose?"

  "Can't you see?" Forrest answered. "We cannot keep Engleton shut up forever. I grant you that that is impossible. But if he declines to behavelike a reasonable person, we can threaten him with an alternative whichI do not think he would have the courage to face."

  "You mean?" Cecil gasped.

  "I mean," Forrest answered, "what your grandfather would have told him,or your great grandfather, in half a dozen words weeks ago. At fulltide there is sea enough to drown a dozen such as he within a few yardsof where he lies. Why should we keep him carefully and safe, knowingthat the moment he steps back into life you and I are doomed men?"

  Cecil drew a little breath and lifted his hand to his forehead. He wassurprised to find it wet. All the time he was gazing at Forrest withfascinated eyes.

  "Look here," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "we mustn't talk like this.Engleton will turn round in a day or two. People would think, if theyheard us, that we were planning a murder."

  "In a woman's decalogue," Forrest said, "there is no sin save the sinof being found out. Why not in ours? No one ever had such a chance ofgetting rid of a dangerous enemy. The whole thing is in our hands. Wecould never be found out, never even questioned. If, by one chance in athousand, his body is ever recovered, what more natural? Men have beendrowned before on the marshes here many a time."

  "Go on!" Cecil said. "You have thought this out. Tell me exactly whatyou propose."

  "I propose," Forrest answered, "that we narrow the issues, and that weput them before him in plain English, now--to-night--while the courageis still with us. It must be silence or death. I tell you frankly howit is with me. I would as soon press a pistol to my forehead and pullthe trigger as have this boy go back into the world and tell his story.For you, too, it would be ruin."

  Cecil sank back into his chair, and looked with wide-open but unseeingeyes across the table, through the wall beyond. He saw his futuredamned by that one unpardonable accusation. He saw himself sent outinto the world penniless, an outcast from all the things in life whichmade existence tolerable. He knew very well that Andrew would neverforgive. There was no mercy to be hoped for from him. There was nothingto be looked for anywhere save disaster, absolute and entire. He lookedacross at Forrest, and something in his companion's face sent a coldshiver through his veins.

  "We might go and see what he says," he faltered. "I haven't been theresince the morning, have you?"

  "No!" Forrest answered. "Solitude is good for him. Let us go now,together."

  Without another word they rose from the table. Cecil led the way intothe library, where he rang for a servant.

  "Set out the card-table here," he ordered, "and bring in the whisky andsoda. After that we do not wish to be disturbed. You understand?"

  "Certainly, sir," the man answered.

  They waited until the things were brought. Afterwards they locked thedoor. Cecil went to a drawer and took out a couple of electric torches,one of which he handed to Forrest. Then he went to the wall, and aftera few minutes' groping, found the spring. The door swung open, and arush of unwholesome air streamed into the room. They made their waysilently along the passage until at last they reached the sunkenchamber. Cecil took a key from his pocket and opened the door.

  * * * * *

  Engleton was in evil straits, but there was no sign of yielding in hisface as he looked up. He was seated before a small table upon which acommon lamp was burning. His clothes hung about him loosely. His facewas haggard. A short, unbecoming beard disfigured his face. He wore nocollar or necktie, and his general appearance was altogetherdishevelled. Forrest looked at him critically.

  "My dear Engleton!" he began.

  "What the devil do you want with me at this time of night?" Engletoninterrupted. "Have you come down to see how I amuse myself during thelong evenings? Perhaps you would like to come and play cut-throat. I'llplay you for what stakes you like, and thank you for coming, if you'llleave the door open and let me breathe a little better air."

  "It is your own fault that you are here," Cecil de la Borne declared."It is all your cursed obstinacy. Listen! I tell you once more thatwhat you saw, or fancied you saw, was a mistake. Forget it. Give yourword of honour to forget it, never to allude to it at any time in yourlife, and you can walk out of here a free man."

  Engleton nodded.

  "I have no doubt of it," he answered. "The worst of it is that nothingin the world would induce me to forego the pleasure I promise myself,before very long, too, of giving to the whole world the story of yourinfamy. I am not tractable to-night. You had better go away, both ofyou. I am more likely to fight."

  Forrest sat down on the edge of a chest.

  "Engleton," he said, "don't be a fool. It can do you no particular goodto ruin Cecil here and myself, just because you happen to besuspicious. Let that drop. Tell us that you have decided to let itdrop, and the world can take you into its arms again."

  "I refuse," Engleton answered. "I refuse once and for always. I tellyou that I have made up my mind to see you punished for this. How I getout I don't care, but I shall get out, and when I do, you two will belaid by the heels."

  "We came here to-night," Forrest said slowly, "prepared to compromisewith you."

  "There is no compromise," Engleton answered fiercely. "There is nothingwhich you could offer which cou
ld repay me for the horror of the nightsyou have left me to shiver here in this d--d vault. Don't flatteryourself that I shall ever forget it. I stay on because I cannotescape, but I would sooner stay here for ever than beg for mercy fromeither of you."

  "Upon my word," Forrest declared, "our friend is quite a hero."

  "I am hero enough, at any rate," Engleton answered, "to refuse tobargain with you. Get out, both of you, before I lose my temper."

  Forrest came a little further into the room. The thunder of the seaseemed almost above their heads. The little lamp on the table byEngleton's side gave little more than a weird, unnatural light aroundthe circle in which he sat.

  "That isn't quite all that we came to say," Forrest remarked coldly."To tell you the truth we have had enough of playing jailer."

  "I can assure you," Engleton answered, "that I have had equally enoughof being your prisoner."

  "We are agreed, then," Forrest continued smoothly. "You will probablybe relieved when I tell you that we have decided to end it."

  Engleton rose to his feet.

  "So much the better," he said. "You might keep me here till doomsday,and the end would be the same."

  "We do not propose," Forrest continued, "to keep you here tilldoomsday, or anything like it. What we have come to say to you isthis--that if you still refuse to give your promise--I need not saymore than that--we are going to set you free."

  "Do you mean that literally?" Engleton asked.

  "Perhaps not altogether as you would wish to understand it," Forrestadmitted. "We shall give you a chance at high tide to swim for yourlife."

  Engleton shrunk a little back. After all, his nerves were a littleshattered.

  "Out there?" he asked, pointing to the seaward end of the passage.

  Forrest nodded.

  "It will be a chance for you," he said.

  Engleton looked at them for a moment, dumbfounded.

  "It will be murder," he said slowly.

  Forrest shrugged his shoulders.

  "You may call it so if you like," he answered. "Personally, I shouldnot be inclined to agree with you. You will be alive when you go intothe sea. If you cannot swim, the fault is not ours."

  "And when, may I ask," Engleton continued, "do you propose to put intooperation your amiable plan?"

  "Just whensoever we please, you d--d obstinate young puppy!" Forrestcried, suddenly losing his nerve. "Curse your silent tongue and yourvenomous face! You think you can get the better of us, do you? Well,you are mistaken. You'll tell no stories from amongst the seaweed."

  Engleton nodded.

  "I shall take particular good care," he said, "to avoid the seaweed."

  "Enough," Forrest declared. "Listen! Here is the issue. We are tired ofnegative things. To-night you sign the paper and give us your word ofhonour to keep silent, or before morning, when the tide is full, you gointo the sea!"

  "I warn you," Engleton said, "that I can swim."

  "I will guarantee," Forrest answered suavely, "that by the time youreach the water you will have forgotten how."