CHAPTER XX
NEPTUNE TO THE RESCUE
Not daring to venture near the Cottage again, Philip got as near to thevillage as he could, and hung about, until lights were gleaming only inthe upper windows of cottages, and until the doors of the Chater Armshad been closed for some time upon the last roystering yokel who hadhad more than was good for him. His purpose was to see Betty Siggs, andassure her, in accordance with his promise, of Clara’s welfare. But ittook a longer time to carry out his purpose than he had anticipated.
Over and over again, when he was almost within touch of the place, hewould fancy he heard a door being opened, or that footsteps were comingcautiously towards him; and would make a dash back into the darkness.At last, however, he managed to get round to the back of the inn, andto take a survey of its windows.
Now, it so happened that two of those windows were lighted—clearlyshowing that some one else was going to bed, in addition to Toby Siggsand his wife. Knowing nothing about the disposition of the variousrooms upstairs, Philip was, for a time, at a loss what to do; beingdreadfully afraid that he might rouse the wrong party and bringdisaster upon himself. At last, tired with waiting, he determined totake the risk, and to throw a few small pebbles at the larger of thetwo lighted windows. This he did—sending the stones rattling smartlyagainst the glass once or twice—and then crept into the darkness, andawaited results.
Unfortunately, it happened that the chief guest room at the Chater Armswas the largest room upstairs; and that Mr. and Mrs. Siggs, in theirmodesty, and with an eye to business, occupied a smaller apartment. Andin that guest room, at that particular time, reposed the importantfigure of Inspector Tokely, who had been stopped, in his projectedreturn to London that afternoon, by the intelligence that his prisonerhad broken jail, and was thought to be in the neighbourhood ofBamberton.
At first, the rattle of the stones had no effect upon the sleepingofficer of the Law; but Philip’s second attempt roused him from sleep,and drove him to the unwelcome thought that some one was playingpractical jokes upon him, as a form of rustic humour. Not at allrelishing this, he sprang out of bed, just as a third handful patteredagainst the panes.
The indignant Tokely dashed to the window, and drew up the blind; then,unable to see anything, he flung up the window-sash, and poked out hishead.
“Who’s down there?” he cried out. “You’d better come out—because Iknow who you are, and I’ll lay you by the heels to-morrow morning, assure as a gun. Now then—are you coming out of it?”
Philip, who had drawn himself up in the darkest corner of the yard,horror-struck at his blunder, very naturally declining to obey theInspector’s bidding, that indignant man continued to shout variousthreats of future punishment into the darkness, until he contrived torouse his host and hostess; so that, in a minute or two, the secondlighted window was raised, and old Toby Siggs put his head out, with amost prodigious nightcap upon it, and looked round at Tokely.
“Wot’s all this?” he asked, in his slow heavy fashion. “If so be as you’ave a pain anywheres, the Missis ’ll be on’y too glad to git up, an’make a poultice, or anythink of that kind, double quick; on’y don’t goa ’owlin’ at the moon like that there—jist like a lost dorg—’cos itain’t restful at this time o’ night.”
“I’m not howling at the moon—or at anything else,” retorted Tokely,savagely. “And I’m not in pain, you idiot. Only some yokel has had theimpudence to keep on shying pebbles at my window, this half hourpast—by way of a joke, I suppose. I wish they’d try any one else’swindow, for a change.”
“Wot did you ’ave for supper?” was the extraordinary query propoundedby Toby, after a thoughtful pause.
“What the deuce has that got to do with it?” snapped out the Inspector.
“Oh—nothink,” replied Toby, innocently. “On’y I thought you mightp’raps ’ave bin dreaming’—that’s all.”
Tokely muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under his breath,and jerked down the blind—quite forgetting, in his rage, about thewindow. Moreover, being thoroughly roused from any sleep, or thoughtsof it, he sat down near his bedstead, to think about the matter, and todecide how best he could visit his wrath upon some one for the offenceon the morrow.
Sitting thus, engaged with his own angry thoughts, he lost count oftime, until presently he was startled by another sound of the strikingof pebbles against glass. But the curious thing was, that it was nothis window which received the attack this time, but another—for thesound was far less distinct. The Inspector quietly blew out his candle,and crept to the window.
In a few moments, there was another little shower of pebbles; and theInspector, quietly drawing aside the blind, peered down into thedarkness. Then he heard the creak of a window being softly raised, anda bright light, as from a candle, fell on the ground below, and on afigure standing there. And this figure, raising its head, and lookingup, revealed to the watching Tokely the face of Dandy Chater, whoshould have been, by all right and propriety, at that moment inChelmsford Jail.
“Little mother!” came in a quick whisper from below; and a voice—thatof Mrs. Siggs—responded promptly in the same cautious fashion.
“Oh, my dear, dear boy. Wait just one blessed minute, and I’ll comedown to you,” cried Betty, softly.
“Wait just one blessed minute, and _I_’ll come down to you,” mutteredthe Inspector to himself. “This is a piece of luck, indeed!” TheInspector crept away from the window, and began, hurriedly andnoiselessly, to get into his garments.
In a few moments, he heard, as he had fully anticipated, a rustlingupon the staircase, and a quick footstep going downwards; immediatelyafter, the cautious drawing back of bolts, and the turning of a key;then, the subdued sound of voices. The Inspector dressed with greaterrapidity than ever.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Siggs had drawn Philip into the little parlour, and hadlaid her old head—nightcap and all—upon his shoulder, and was cryingcomfortably. It was some time before she could compose herselfsufficiently to listen to what he had to say; but she did at last, onlypunctuating what he said by an occasional sob.
“First—for my time is very short—about Clara,” he said. “I blamemyself horribly for all the anxiety she has caused you; but you know,little mother, that she fell in love with that scapegrace brother ofmine, and only transferred her affections to me, without knowing it.But the child’s safe—I give you my word for it; and I think you cantrust me, Betty, to deliver her into your hands again, when the timecomes for speaking the truth. But that time is not yet; for thepresent, you must be silent; everything I value most on earth dependson that. I am getting nearer, every hour, little mother, to the end ofmy difficulties; I am on the track of the man who murdered my brother,and can declare my innocence. If I can remain free but a few hourslonger, I may be able to devise some plan—some way out of the tangle.Don’t you see my strange position; that, for my own sake, as well asyours, I want to declare to the world that I am Philip Chater, andinnocent of all these sins which have been visited upon me; while, forthe sake of one dear woman, I want to remain Dandy Chater, because—Godhelp me!—she loves Dandy Chater—and I am a stranger to her.”
“Well—yer don’t stand much chance of goin’ free if yer chucks stonesup at that there Tokely’s winder,” said Betty, laughing through hertears.
“I had no idea that the man was still here,” replied Philip, “and, ofcourse, I couldn’t be expected to know which window was yours; I had totake the risk of that. But I saw his light go out; there’s no doubtthat he is sleeping peacefully, and dreaming of anything but DandyChater.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the door leading fromthe staircase was opened abruptly, and Toby Siggs thrust in his head,and looked at them with a scared face. On the principle that whateverBetty did was sure to be right, Toby would not have thought ofquestioning her, concerning her championship of the supposed DandyChater, or of her endeavours to hide him. Obedient to P
hilip’sinjunction, Mrs. Siggs had refrained from entering into any explanationwith Toby—who was, if the truth be told, somewhat of a gossip. But, atthe present moment, loyalty to his wife, no less than to the man whosecause she upheld, had prompted him to leave his chamber, and creep downto give them warning.
“Betty, old gal—that there Tokely—as is the deepest ever I see—an’the most careful of ’is precious skin—’as gorn off to fetchassistance.” It took Toby a long time to say this, in his slow andponderous fashion; but he got it out at last, and stood nodding hishead prodigiously when he had finished.
“What do you mean?” asked Philip quickly, making a movement towards thedoor. “I’ve heard no one about the house; how could he have got out?”
“Artfulness—downright perlice artfulness—an’ nothink else,” repliedToby, slowly. “Arter you chucked stones at ’is winder, an’ arter I’d’ad that little argyment with ’im, I thought ’e’d gone to by-bye; butnot ’e. I ’eard a scrapin’ agin’ the wall, an’ looked out; an’ therewas that Tokely, shinnin’ down a sort of rope, made of the Missis’ bestcompany sheets. ’E’s gone straight down to the village constable, toget ’im an’ a few more—so as to make sure of yer, Master Dandy. An’,by the noise—’ere they come!”
Philip Chater, even while Toby’s slow speech was in progress, hadbecome aware of a noise of feet and a murmur of voices outside. “It’sall over, Betty, I’m afraid,” he said, in a low voice—“but I thinkI’ll try a dash for it. Good-bye, little mother; don’t fear for me.”
Feeling more valiant than usual, with a good backing of yokels, and thevillage constable, Inspector Tokely came straight into the room, andwalked up to Philip, smiling grimly. Before, however, he had had anopportunity for saying a word, Philip stepped forward, and caught himby the arms; swung him round, by the impulse of that movement, straightto Toby Siggs, and dashed headlong at the crowd in the doorway. Toby,for his part, receiving the full weight of the Inspector on hisstockinged feet, immediately held fast to that gentleman, and began topummel him soundly on his own account—heedless of the fact that Philiphad only been able to fight his way into the midst of a considerablecrowd of men, and had there been secured. The Inspector, writhing underhis punishment, and struggling vainly to get away, was shouting outorders, entreaties, and threats, in the most confusing fashion.
At last, some sort of order being restored, and the Inspector released,the two principals in the little scene faced each other in BettySiggs’s parlour, with a crowd of eager faces about them.
“Well,” gasped Tokely—“so I’ve got you, have I, Mr. Dandy Chater!”
“Pray be accurate, policeman,” replied Philip, coolly. “_You_ haven’tgot me; it’s these good fellows you have to thank for that. Icongratulate you on your bravery, policeman; you have brought a prettygood mob against me.”
There was a smothered laugh at the expense of the Inspector, who turnedrather red. “I knew you to be a dangerous character,” he said—“and Idid not intend that you should slip through my fingers again. For thepresent, Mr. Siggs”—he turned towards Toby, with a malicious grin onhis face—“I must trouble you to give over this room—in the Queen’sname—until such time as I can get a trap, to drive this man back toChelmsford; one or two of us will wait here with him, until it arrives.He may be a desperate character, but he won’t get over me in a hurry.Here—catch his arms, some of you.”
Almost before Philip realised what had happened, his arms werepinioned, and he felt something hard and cold forced over his wrists.When the men fell away from him, he discovered that he was securelyhandcuffed.
“You’re surely not going to drive me through the open country, withthese things on my hands—are you?” he asked bitterly. “If I give youmy word not to attempt to escape——”
“We won’t trust your word, Dandy Chater,” said Tokely, grinning again.“You’ve given us a pretty good chase, as it is—and any amount oftrouble; and there are one or two people”—he glanced for a moment atToby, and then at Betty Siggs—“against whom I intend to apply forwarrants—for aiding and abetting you to escape, and for obstructing mein the execution of my duty. I’ve been hit over the head withdecanters—and have barked myself painfully again trees—and have beenstruck heavily in the region of the ribs by——”
“If you should ’appen to refer to me, with that there lastremark”—said Toby, slowly—“let me recommend that you don’t go ajumping’—promiscuous-like—on a man’s corns, without so much as ‘byyer leave.’ I don’t permit no man—much less a perliceman—to jump onme in my own parlour.”
Without deigning any reply to this, the Inspector told off two or threeof the men to remain with him, and dismissed the others outside thedoor, which he shut. The crowd by the sounds which proceeded from theyard, was evidently in no mood to go home to bed; but remained,discussing the matter excitedly, and no doubt taking much individualcredit to itself, for the successful issue of the business.
For a long and weary half hour, Philip sat, with his eyes upon theground, waiting until such time as the man who had been sent for aconveyance should return; and, during that time, a curious thinghappened.
There sat next to him, a tall, thin individual, with a melancholyvisage—a man who had not, curiously enough, taken any part in theactual fray, but who, nevertheless, had thrust himself forward eagerly,when the men who were to guard the prisoner were selected. Once ortwice, Philip was under the curious impression that the man wasstriving to attract his attention; he lunged out one of his thin legsat him sideways, once or twice, while the Inspector happened to beengaged in conversation with the constable and the other men. At last,he found an excuse to get up from his chair, and pass in front ofPhilip; tripped—purposely, as it seemed over the prisoner’s feet; andturned swiftly to make an apology.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, I’m sure—’adn’t no intention of”—the wordsdied away, in a sort of growl; but at the end of them, as the man benthis head to speak, Philip heard distinctly the whisper—“Cap’n Quist.”
Philip was so astounded, and his heart began to beat so fast, at theprobable thought that a friend was near at hand, that he could scarcelycontrol himself. But he managed to keep his eyes fixed, apparently onthe floor, even while he turned towards the man, who had resumed hisseat. His astonishment was greater than ever, when he saw that man, onthe pretext of scratching his arm, pull up his sleeve a little way, anddisclose—so that Philip alone saw them—certain heavy tattoo marks,such as would scarcely be likely to be on the skin of any one but asailor.
At that moment, wheels were heard at the front of the house, and, thedoor being unfastened by Toby—who had gone with Betty into the bar—aman came in, and walked straight through to where Tokely was standing.
“Couldn’t get a trap, sir, anywheres; but I managed to get a fly—andit’s at the door.”
“All right—a fly will do better than anything; we’ll have him saferthere than elsewhere.”
The man with the melancholy visage suddenly emitted a mostextraordinary sound—a sound which, had it moved any part of his facein any way, might have been described as a laugh; but, as hiscountenance appeared as melancholy after it as before, it did not seempossible that it arose from mirth.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tokely, turning towards the man.
“Nuffink, guv’nor. It’s rather a nasty corf, that ketches me now andagin,” replied the man.
Philip was thrust into the vehicle, together with the man of themelancholy countenance—who stuck close to him, and even held his arm,as though afraid of losing him—and Tokely. When one of the watcherssuggested that he might want other assistance, in view of the prisonerproving refractory, Tokely admitted that it might be better for one ofthem to get on the box with the driver; but, immediately afterwards,thinking apparently that such extra precaution might be put down tocowardice on his part, he countermanded the order; so that the prisonerdrove off with only the melancholy-looking man and Tokely inside, andthe driver on the box.
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Philip’s mind was chiefly occupied with wonder as to what was going tohappen. That the melancholy man was an emissary of Captain Quist, hedid not doubt; at the same time, lest he should alarm the Inspector,and so frustrate any plan which might have been formed for his ownrescue, he sat still in a corner of the fly, apparently in a sulkyhumour, but really alert and watchful.
The moment came at last. A shrill whistle sounded somewhere out of theblackness of the night. It was answered, in an instant, with deafeningintensity, by the melancholy man, who on the instant leapt upon Tokely,and seemed to be doing something extraordinary, in the midst of aviolent struggle, with that gentleman’s arms. In less time than ittakes to tell, a figure appeared, through the glass of one window,racing along beside the vehicle; the door was wrenched open, and Philipwas tumbled out, with the melancholy man literally on top of him, intothe road; the door was slammed, and the horse, maddened by a cut acrosshis haunches from a long whip, fairly took the bit in his teeth, anddashed straight down the road like a racer. The last that Philip saw ofthe vehicle, as he sat up in the road and looked after it, was itswaying from side to side of the road, while the unfortunate Tokely(whose arms had been pinioned behind him with true sailor-likeadroitness) had his head thrust out of one window, and was vainlyshouting to the driver.
Then, a familiar voice broke upon Philip’s ear, and Captain Quist,looking ruefully at a tall silk hat, which lay battered in the roadway,and on which some one must have fallen, muttered a familiar phrase.
“That comes,” said the Captain, “of gettin’ into bad company.”