Ambrotox and Limping Dick

  CHAPTER XIV.

  PENNY PANSY.

  Dick Bellamy lifted the girl and carried her to a spot where he couldlay her down with head a little lower than heels; watched her until thecolour of the face improved and the breath became more regular; and thenmade use of her insensibility to pay his last duty to the dead.

  Without moving the body, he went through the pockets, finding nothingworth keeping except a few letters and a bunch of keys; for revolvercartridges there were none.

  For a moment he regarded the grim dagger point, deciding to leave itwhere it was.

  "If Melchard finds it," he thought, "he'll think it's something to dowith his little Dutch trollop."

  Returning to Amaryllis, he stood once more looking down at her.

  He could not carry her in her present state two miles across the moor inthe growing heat, and with only one of their five enemies safely dead,while the four others hung on his flank, cunning and desperate, if ableto think and act.

  And there was Fridji--she was surely herself again--either screaming orat liberty.

  His own stomach, in spite of his few mouthfuls at "The Coach andHorses," reminded him that Amaryllis had not eaten during the lastthirteen, or fourteen hours.

  A little breeze had arisen, blowing from the south-east, and broughtwith it to his nostrils the smell of wood-smoke. He looked at the pileof cut wood.

  "I ought to have known," he thought; and stooping, raised the girl,still unconscious, tied the jacket by the arms round her neck, andlifting her so that her waist was against his shoulder, set out towindward, following the wheel-tracks.

  Ten minutes' steady walking brought him to a bend in the path whichshowed him the smoke he had been smelling, rising from the brick chimneyof a squat stone cottage which, rather than to nestle among the woods,as well-behaved cottages should, seemed to shrink from the ragged timberwhich surrounded it.

  Beside the door, on a battered kitchen chair, sat a woman, reading whatDick took for a newspaper. As he drew nearer she rose, and picked up atin wash-basin full of corn; and to the "Coop, coop, coop," of hermelancholy voice came clucking and scrambling chickens and hens in grandflutter of greed.

  Her eyes were on them as she scattered the grain, and Dick could see herclearly enough to wish he had a man to deal with, before the sound ofhis steps rose above the clamour of the poultry, and the woman lookedup.

  If he had taken, at that moment, any interest in his own appearance, hewould have expected her to scream; for the chicken-feeder raised hereyes to see, limping towards her, clad in muddy boots, torn greytrousers and blue cotton shirt with streaks of drying blood down theleft breast, a tall, dark-haired man, carrying a woman hanging acrosshis shoulder.

  And on the man's left cheek was a bruised cut, swelled, and clotted overwith dried blood, which had run down in a stream, flowing over the jawand ending at the collar; and all the way the drying rivulet had clungto the dark stubble of a twenty-four hours' beard.

  For the rest, sweat, dust, fasting and sleeplessness had made of this aface whose horror was but increased by the alertness of the eyes, whichshone with so shocking a blueness that the woman, finding them unlikeany eyes which she had seen before, called them to herself, "evileyes--the eyes of a desperate man."

  Being a person of some courage, she managed with an effort to keep herhold of the basin and to scatter the remaining grains among the fowlsbefore addressing her terrific visitor.

  "You're trespassin'," she said, with harsh self-possession. And from thegrass she picked up her cheap magazine and dropped it into the basinwhich she had just slapped down on the bench by the door.

  On the thin paper cover Dick read _The Penny Pansy_.

  "It is not trespassing, madam," he replied in a voice whose ingratiatingquality was devoid of affectation, "--it can't be trespassing for a manin great need to come for help to the nearest house."

  "I'm too poor to help the poorest," objected the woman, "and I don'tlike your luggage, sir." And she wondered why she had _sirred_ acut-throat looking ruffian such as this.

  Dick Bellamy wondered why the woman, in this lonely place, spoke sodifferently from the landlord of "The Coach and Horses." But heremembered _The Penny Pansy_, and felt for an opening.

  Her gaze reminded him of his blood.

  "It is not, madam," he said impressively, "a corpse that I carry; thoughhow long the lady will survive, unless you can furnish us withnourishment and shelter, I dare not conjecture. This blood which you seeis my own, spent in her defence."

  He sat down on a chopping-block not far from the door, sliding Amaryllisto his knees, and resting her head against his shoulder.

  "You can't sit there all day nursing a great, grown girl, like she was achild," said the woman.

  "That is indeed true," he replied. "And therefore I beg you to let usrest in your house until the young lady is fit to travel."

  "It's easy to talk of travelling," she objected with sour insolence."But 'tis my belief that, once let the hussy in, I'll never be rid ofher."

  "My desire to be gone," replied Dick, "by far outweighs any anxiety ofyours, my good woman."

  "Are you her husband?" asked the woman, impressed, but trying to keepthe severity from fading out of her face.

  "Not yet," replied Dick, assuming an expression of extreme solemnity."About us two, madam, hangs a web of mystery. It is a story I shouldlike to confide in you, for there is something in your face whichreminds me of my old mother," and he brought a note of pathos into hisvoice, straight from the pages of "East Lynne," words and tone comingwith an ease which surprised him.

  "There's naught preventing," said the woman, expectantly.

  "Except that the lady needs rest, I want a wash, and we both want food,"said Dick. "You just be as kind as you look, and I'll give you a poundfor every half-hour we spend in your house, and, if there's time, aromance into the bargain. You know what's stranger than fiction, don'tyou, mother?"

  "The truth, they do say. But I dunno," she answered, doubtfully.

  "What has happened to me in the last twenty-four hours," said Dick,"would shame the most exciting serial in the _Millsborough Herald_."

  "'Tis the _Courier_ has the best," interrupted the woman eagerly.

  "Mine will knock spots off the _Courier_--if we have time for it," saidDick, in the tone of dark suggestion.

  "Bring her in," said the woman, curiosity prevailing. "I'll do my bestfor you both;" and Dick, rising with care not to disturb his nowsleeping burden, carried it into the cottage.

  The little house consisted of a large kitchen and two bedrooms openingfrom it. The woman, now almost hospitable, opened one of the innerdoors.

  "My son Tom's room," she said, with some pride. "He's away toMillsborough. Better put the lady in here. 'Tis a better bed than mine,and all clean and tidy for him against he comes on Monday."

  She sighed heavily over some thought of her son, and watched her strangeguest lay his strange load on the bed.

  The idea that under this ill-fitting, already draggled skirt, and loose,ridiculous man's jacket were concealed the fine skin and well-tendedperson of a lady, filled her with expectation of romance. If the_Millsborough Herald_ had taught her to despise the "low moral tone" ofthose who ride in carriages and know not hardship, the _Penny Pansy_, inits own inimitable manner, had compelled her to believe that theypossessed a distinction which she could not define.

  They were "dainty" in appearance, "delicate" in thought, and "very pale"in love or tragic circumstances.

  But this one--if lady indeed she were--was pale with exhaustion, perhapshunger, as any woman might be; and yet through it all there shone dimlysomething which reminded her of the romance she had drunk from theshallow and sluggish channel of machine-made fiction.

  If this were a heroine, then the queer, persuasive man, bloody andblue-eyed, was the hero--and his kind she knew neither in _PennyPansy's_ country nor her own.

  "Half a dozen eggs, please, laid to-day. I give half a crown apiece foreggs, if I like 'e
m," said Dick. "Got any brandy, whisky, or gin? Andwhat's your name?"

  "Brundage, sir."

  "And the name of this place?"

  "Monkswood Cottage, near Margetstowe."

  "Well, then, Mrs. Brundage--about that brandy?"

  "There _is_ a drop of rum--for medicine, so to say," admitted Mrs.Brundage, with a cold simper.

  "Good medicine too," he said. "Lady Adelina will take some in the eggsI'm going to beat up for her. For me, get bacon and eggs, tea, and bagsof bread and butter. See, she's opening her eyes. I'll leave you to lookafter her."

  Outside the cottage door, he examined the revolver Amaryllis had givenhim. Of its six cartridges, four had been discharged. But two might makeall the difference; and, after all, he had only to get Amaryllis to thecar, or the car to Amaryllis.

  And as he walked round the cottage, watching the woods, reflection ledhim more and more to believe that he had shaken himself free of hisenemies. All but the Woman and the Dago were more or less damaged; none,it was probable, knew in what direction Ockley had disappeared; fear ofthe evidence he held against them might now prompt them rather to flightthan pursuit; and what, he asked himself, could that yellow-hairedshe-devil, even if the little Dago that had bolted were faithful to hisfellows, do against him now?

  Amaryllis should have her rest.

  Passing her window, he heard her talking rapidly, her words broken bysobs which pained him, and snatches of laughter which hurt him more.

  He met Mrs. Brundage at the door.

  "She's feared of me--pushes me away," she whispered. "Highsterical, youmay call it. If you're Dick, sir, it's you she wants. I've got her inbed, but I don't promise she'll stay there."

  He pushed past her, saw the rum-bottle and the eggs set out on thekitchen table, took a tumbler and spoon from the dresser, and broke thefirst egg into the glass.

  "Sugar," he said, "and milk."

  Mrs. Brundage gave him both, with a quickness which pleased him.

  "Tell her Dick's coming," he said, and the woman went, leaving the doorajar.

  As he beat the eggs to a froth, he could hear her awkward attempts tosoothe the girl's distress.

  When the mixture was ready, "I'm coming," he called. "Dick's coming toyou, sure thing," and took it into the bedroom.

  "I think," he said, standing over her, "that you're making _rather_ afool of yourself."

  "I know I am. But I can't stop." Then, sitting up, with tears runningdown her face, she sobbed out: "Don't _you_ be unkind to me too."

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, put an arm round her shaking body,and held the tumbler towards her.

  "Drink it up," he said; and the Brundage woman noted how adroitly heavoided the hand that would have pushed away the glass.

  "I don't want it. I want you. I'm safe with you."

  "It's both or neither. Drink it slowly. I'll stay to the last drop," hesaid, smiling down at her as she had never seen him smile before.

  She obeyed, looking up at him between the mouthfuls, with something likeadoration in her eyes.

  When only a quarter of the mixture was left in the glass, she spoke:

  "You're good to me," she said.

  "Of course," he answered, and she laid her head on his shoulder andslept at once.

  So for a while he held her; and the watcher saw the strength andjudgment with which, a little later, he lowered the head to the pillowso that the change of position never brought a quiver to the closedeyelids; and, feeling romance as never before, she let a man playsick-nurse to a maiden in bed without one censorious thought, and becamedimly aware for a moment in her drab life that love and modesty,strength and beauty, safety and trust, spring to meet each other out ofthe hidden root of things.

  Dick laid the coverlet over the girl's shoulders, and walked out of theroom with a silence of which the woman achieved only an indifferentimitation.

  "And him with that bad limp, too," she said to herself afterwards, "andthem thick boots!"

  "Breakfast," said Dick, in that low tone of his which never whispered."Leave her door open, and our voices will make her feel safe in hersleep. Give me a towel and soap. I'll wash at the pump while you maketea."

  When he had washed, eaten many eggs and drunk much tea, Mrs. Brundagethought her turn had come.

  "Lady Adeline----" she began, but Dick turned on her so sudden a starethat she stopped short. And no less suddenly he remembered.

  The woman's softening had made him almost willing to trust her with acondensed version of the facts. But her "Adeline" reminded him that hewas already committed to a safer course.

  "Adelin_a_," he said, correcting her, "the Lady Adelin_a_, not Adeline.Her mother, you see, Mrs. Brundage, was an Italian lady of high birth,and her exalted family were very particular about the end of the name."

  To gain time he finished his tea, and lighted his pipe--his first smokesince he had left St. Albans.

  "The father is an Englishman of title, who has long set his heart on agreat marriage for his daughter. For months, nay, years, thehigh-spirited Lady Adelina has resisted the idea of yoking herself witha man she dislikes and for whom she has no respect."

  "Poor young lady," sighed Mrs. Brundage. The familiar tale was alivewith reality for her. "Now I'll lay the father's a baronet," she said.

  "You have great insight, Mrs. Brundage. But it is worse than that: he isa marquis. Well, just before I first met her, Adelina, worn out by herfather's alternate cajolery and brutality, had yielded, almost promisingto do as he wished. It was during the war----"

  "That war!" exclaimed Mrs. Brundage. "It's got a deal to answer for.Now, there's Tom; it's changed his heart from cows and horses tomotor-cars and airyplanes."

  "It was in a hospital----" said Dick.

  "Them hospitals!" she interrupted. "I know 'em. And very dangerousinstitootions I consider 'em."

  "I see you do--so you will understand that part. When we had made thediscovery that each was the only thing in the world to the other, andshe had told her father, the Marquis of Ontario, that she would wed nonebut me, his anger was so terrible that I dared no longer leave herbeneath his roof. There was nothing for it but----"

  "An elopement!" burst from Mrs. Brundage.

  Dick nodded.

  "We did it--last night, in my car. But about four miles fromMillsborough, we had an accident. You've seen my face, Mrs. Brundage,but you haven't seen my car. And we knew that the Marquis was not farbehind us. So we dragged ourselves along the ditch into which we hadfallen, and hid. At dawn we saw him go tearing by in his sumptuoussixteen-cylinder electric landaulette. After that----"

  A crunching of gravel outside brought a not inconvenient interruption tothis romance.

  Dick was out of the kitchen like a flash, his right hand in the pocketof his jacket.

  Mrs. Brundage heard a voice that was not his, and words of a languageshe had never heard before. Having no reason to fear anything worse thanthe Marquis of Ontario, she followed her hero with a stride as swift andalmost as silent as his own.

  Before she reached the corner, she heard his voice in sharp command,answered by a rapid flow of words in a tongue and voice strange to her.

  She checked her advance suddenly and noisily, heard a second orderjerked out, and showed herself.

  "Abajo las manos," Dick had said--just in time, for Pepe el Lagarto'shands hung by his sides once more when Mrs. Brundage came round thecorner and caught her first sight of him.

  A small, dingy-faced man, with fear in the lines of his mouth, but apathetic, dog-like trust in his eyes, stood looking up at the sternmaster who, it seemed, had caught him unawares.

  Mrs. Brundage did not like the new-comer, nor the aspect of thismeeting.

  "Who is this man, Mr.--Mr. Dick?" she asked.

  He turned upon her with surprise so well-feigned that she fully believedhe had not heard her coming.

  "He's my chauffeur, Mrs. Brundage," he said. "He is of Spanish blood,born in the Republic of La Plata. With the skill which is second nat
ureto him he has tracked me to your house--to tell me that my car isalready repaired, and that the Earl of Toronto--er--the Marquis ofOntario is sending out party after party to search the whole countrysidefor us. With your permission, Pepe el Lagarto will remain here until theLady Adelina is able to proceed, when he will guide us to the placewhere the car is concealed."

  Dick led the way back to the Brundage kitchen, where he made thisstrange servant sit down, and set before him half a tumbler of rum.

  "I hope," he said magnificently, "that you will pardon my listening to afull account of his doings. It is in the interest of the Lady Adelinathat I should know everything; and the conclusion of my narrative toyou, Mrs. Brundage, must, I regret to say, be postponed."

  He turned to Pepe, and spoke in the lazy Spanish of the Argentine.

  "And now, you dog," he said, with manner as smooth as his words wereharsh, "how dare you come fawning on me, after helping these filthy,misbegotten sons of Satan to kidnap a lady?"

  Pepe writhed with discomfort and apprehension, even while his eyescontinued to adore his idol over the rim of the glass from which hesipped his rum. And this contradiction in expression interested Mrs.Brundage so much that she went quietly about her work, hoping by hardlistening to steal some meaning from the soft words which came pouringout in exculpation.