CHAPTER IV
THE difficulty was not only that Gerald had got the ring on and couldn'tget it off, and was therefore invisible, but that Mabel, who had beeninvisible and therefore possible to be smuggled into the house, was nowplain to be seen and impossible for smuggling purposes.
The children would have not only to account for the apparent absence ofone of themselves, but for the obvious presence of a perfect stranger.
"I can't go back to aunt. I can't and I won't," said Mabel firmly, "notif I was visible twenty times over."
"She'd smell a rat if you did." Gerald owned--"about the motor-car, Imean, and the adopting lady. And what we're to say to Mademoiselle aboutyou----!" He tugged at the ring.
"Suppose you told the truth," said Mabel meaningly.
"She wouldn't believe it," said Cathy; "or, if she did, she'd go stark,staring, raving mad."
"No," said Gerald's voice, "we daren't _tell_ her. But she's reallyrather decent. Let's ask her to let you stay the night because it's toolate for you to get home."
"That's all right," said Jimmy, "but what about you?"
"I shall go to bed," said Gerald, "with a bad headache. Oh, _that's_ nota lie! I've got one right enough. It's the sun, I think. I knowblacklead attracts the concentration of the sun."
"More likely the pears and the gingerbread," said Jimmy unkindly. "Well,let's get along. I wish it was me was invisible. I'd do somethingdifferent from going to bed with a silly headache, I know that."
"What would you do?" asked the voice of Gerald just behind him.
"Do keep in one place, you silly cuckoo!" said Jimmy. "You make me feelall jumpy." He had indeed jumped rather violently. "Here, walk betweenCathy and me."
"What _would_ you do?" repeated Gerald, from that apparently unoccupiedposition.
"I'd be a burglar," said Jimmy.
Cathy and Mabel in one breath reminded him how wrong burgling was, andJimmy replied:
"Well, then--a detective."
"There's got to be something to detect before you can begindetectiving," said Mabel.
"Detectives don't always detect things," said Jimmy, very truly. "If Icouldn't be any other kind I'd be a baffled detective. You could be oneall right, and have no end of larks just the same. Why don't you do it?"
"It's exactly what I _am_ going to do," said Gerald. "We'll go round bythe police-station and see what they've got in the way of crimes."
They did, and read the notices on the board outside. Two dogs had beenlost, a purse, and a portfolio of papers "of no value to any but theowner." Also Houghton Grange had been broken into and a quantity ofsilver plate stolen. "Twenty pounds reward offered for any informationthat may lead to the recovery of the missing property."
"That burglary's my lay," said Gerald; "I'll detect that. Here comesJohnson," he added; "he's going off duty. Ask him about it." The felldetective, being invisible, was unable to pump the constable, but theyoung brother of our hero made the inquiries in quite a creditablemanner. "Be creditable, Jimmy."
Jimmy hailed the constable.
"Halloa, Johnson!" he said.
And Johnson replied: "Halloa, young shaver!"
"Shaver yourself!" said Jimmy, but without malice.
"What are you doing this time of night?" the constable asked jocosely."All the dicky birds is gone to their little nesteses."
"We've been to the fair," said Kathleen. "There was a conjurer there. Iwish you could have seen him."
"Heard about him," said Johnson; "all fake, you know. The quickness ofthe 'and deceives the hi."
Such is fame. Gerald, standing in the shadow, jingled the loose money inhis pocket to console himself.
"What's that?" the policeman asked quickly.
"WHAT'S THAT?" THE POLICEMAN ASKED QUICKLY.]
"Our money jingling," said Jimmy, with perfect truth.
"It's well to be some people," Johnson remarked; "wish I'd got mypockets full to jingle with."
"Well, why haven't you?" asked Mabel. "Why don't you get that twentypounds reward?"
"I'll tell you why I don't. Because in this 'ere realm of liberty, andBritannia ruling the waves, you aint allowed to arrest a chap onsuspicion, even if you know puffickly well who done the job."
"What a shame!" said Jimmy warmly. "And who _do_ you think did it?"
"I don't think--I know." Johnson's voice was ponderous as his boots."It's a man what's known to the police on account of a heap o' crimeshe's done, but we never can't bring it 'ome to 'im, nor yet getsufficient evidence to convict."
"Well," said Jimmy, "when I've left school I'll come to you and beapprenticed, and be a detective. Just now I think we'd better get homeand detect our supper. Good-night!"
They watched the policeman's broad form disappear through the swing doorof the police-station; and as it settled itself into quiet again thevoice of Gerald was heard complaining bitterly.
"You've no more brains than a halfpenny bun," he said: "no details abouthow and when the silver was taken."
"But he told us he knew," Jimmy urged.
"Yes, that's all you've got out of him. A silly policeman's silly idea.Go home and detect your precious supper! It's all you're fit for."
"What'll you do about supper?" Mabel asked.
"Buns!" said Gerald, "halfpenny buns. They'll make me think of my dearlittle brother and sister. Perhaps you've got enough sense to buy buns?I can't go into a shop in this state."
"Don't you be so disagreeable," said Mabel with spirit. "We did ourbest. If I were Cathy you should whistle for your nasty buns."
"If you were Cathy the gallant young detective would have left home longago. Better the cabin of a tramp steamer than the best family mansionthat's got a brawling sister in it," said Gerald. "You're a bit of anoutsider at present, my gentle maiden. Jimmy and Cathy know well enoughwhen their bold leader is chaffing and when he isn't."
"Not when we can't see your face we don't," said Cathy, in tones ofrelief. "I really thought you were in a flaring wax, and so did Jimmy,didn't you?"
"Oh, rot!" said Gerald. "Come on! This way to the bun shop."
They went. And it was while Cathy and Jimmy were in the shop and theothers were gazing through the glass at the jam tarts and Swiss rollsand Victoria sandwiches and Bath buns under the spread yellow muslin inthe window, that Gerald discoursed in Mabel's ear of the plans andhopes of one entering on a detective career.
"I shall keep my eyes open to-night, I can tell you," he began. "I shallkeep my eyes skinned, and no jolly error. The invisible detective maynot only find out about the purse and the silver, but detect some crimethat isn't even done yet. And I shall hang about until I see somesuspicious-looking characters leave the town, and follow them furtivelyand catch them red-handed, with their hands full of priceless jewels,and hand them over."
"Oh!" cried Mabel, so sharply and suddenly that Gerald was roused fromhis dream to express sympathy.
"Pain?" he said quite kindly. "It's the apples--they _were_ ratherhard."
"Oh, it's not that," said Mabel very earnestly. "Oh, how awful! I neverthought of that before."
"Never thought of _what_?" Gerald asked impatiently.
"The window."
"What window?"
"The panelled-room window. At home, you know--at the castle. Thatsettles it--I _must_ go home. We left it open and the shutters as well,and all the jewels and things there. Auntie'll never go in; she neverdoes. That settles it; I _must_ go home--now--this minute."
Here the others issued from the shop, bun-bearing, and the situation washastily explained to them.
"I _MUST_ GO HOME--NOW--THIS MINUTE."]
"So you see I must go," Mabel ended.
And Kathleen agreed that she must.
But Jimmy said he didn't see what good it would do. "Because the key'sinside the door, anyhow."
"She _will_ be cross," said Mabel sadly. "She'll have to get thegardeners to get a ladder and----"
"Hooray!" said Gerald. "Here's me! Nobler and more secret than gard
enersor ladders was the invisible Jerry. I'll climb in at the window--it'sall ivy, I know I could--and shut the window and the shutters allsereno, put the key back on the nail, and slip out unperceived the backway, threading my way through the maze of unconscious retainers.There'll be plenty of time. I don't suppose burglars begin their fellwork until the night is far advanced."
"Won't you be afraid?" Mabel asked. "Will it be safe--suppose you werecaught?"
"As houses. I can't be," Gerald answered, and wondered that the questioncame from Mabel and not from Kathleen, who was usually inclined to fussa little annoyingly about the danger and folly of adventures.
But all Kathleen said was, "Well, goodbye: we'll come and see youto-morrow, Mabel. The floral temple at half-past ten. I hope you won'tget into an awful row about the motor-car lady."
"Let's detect our supper now," said Jimmy.
"All right," said Gerald a little bitterly. It is hard to enter on anadventure like this and to find the sympathetic interest of yearssuddenly cut off at the meter, as it were. Gerald felt that he ought, ata time like this, to have been the centre of interest. And he wasn't.They could actually talk about supper. Well, let them. He didn't care!He spoke with sharp sternness: "Leave the pantry window undone for me toget in by when I've done my detecting. Come on, Mabel." He caught herhand. "Bags I the buns, though," he added, by a happy afterthought, andsnatching the bag, pressed it on Mabel, and the sound of four bootsechoed on the pavement of the High Street as the outlines of the runningMabel grew small with distance.
= = = = =
Mademoiselle was in the drawing-room. She was sitting by the window inthe waning light reading letters.
"Ah, _vous voici_!" she said unintelligibly. "You are again late; and mylittle Gerald, where is he?"
This was an awful moment. Jimmy's detective scheme had not included anyanswer to this inevitable question. The silence was unbroken till Jimmyspoke.
"He _said_ he was going to bed because he had a headache." And this, ofcourse, was true.
"This poor Gerald!" said Mademoiselle. "Is it that I should mount himsome supper?"
"He never eats anything when he's got one of his headaches," Kathleensaid. And this also was the truth.
Jimmy and Kathleen went to bed, wholly untroubled by anxiety about theirbrother, and Mademoiselle pulled out the bundle of letters and read themamid the ruins of the simple supper.
= = = = =
"It is ripping being out late like this," said Gerald through the softsummer dusk.
"Yes," said Mabel, a solitary-looking figure plodding along thehigh-road. "I do hope auntie won't be _very_ furious."
"Have another bun," suggested Gerald kindly, and a sociable munchingfollowed.
It was the aunt herself who opened to a very pale and trembling Mabelthe door which is appointed for the entrances and exits of the domesticstaff at Yalding Towers. She looked over Mabel's head first, as if sheexpected to see some one taller. Then a very small voice said:--
"Aunt!"
The aunt started back, then made a step towards Mabel.
"You naughty, naughty girl!" she cried angrily; "how could you give mesuch a fright? I've a good mind to keep you in bed for a week for this,miss. Oh, Mabel, thank Heaven you're safe!" And with that the aunt'sarms went round Mabel and Mabel's round the aunt in such a hug as theyhad never met in before.
"But you didn't seem to care a bit this morning," said Mabel, when shehad realised that her aunt really had been anxious, really was glad tohave her safe home again.
"How do you know?"
"I was there listening. Don't be angry, auntie."
"I feel as if I never could be angry with you again, now I've got yousafe," said the aunt surprisingly.
"But how was it?" Mabel asked.
"My dear," said the aunt impressively, "I've been in a sort of trance. Ithink I must be going to be ill. I've always been fond of you, but Ididn't want to spoil you. But yesterday, about half-past three, I wastalking about you to Mr. Lewson, at the fair, and quite suddenly I feltas if you didn't matter at all. And I felt the same when I got yourletter and when those children came. And to-day in the middle of tea Isuddenly woke up and realised that you were gone. It was awful. I thinkI must be going to be ill. Oh, Mabel, why did you do it?"
"It was--a joke," said Mabel feebly. And then the two went in and thedoor was shut.
"That's most uncommon odd," said Gerald, outside; "looks like more magicto me. I don't feel as if we'd got to the bottom of this yet, by anymanner of means. There's more about this castle than meets the eye."
There certainly was. For this castle happened to be--but it would not befair to Gerald to tell you more about it than he knew on that night whenhe went alone and invisible through the shadowy great grounds of it tolook for the open window of the panelled room. He knew that night nomore than I have told you; but as he went along the dewy lawns andthrough the groups of shrubs and trees, where pools lay like giantlooking-glasses reflecting the quiet stars, and the white limbs ofstatues gleamed against a background of shadow, he began to feel--well,not excited, not surprised, not anxious, but--different.
The incident of the invisible Princess had surprised, the incident ofthe conjuring had excited, and the sudden decision to be a detective hadbrought its own anxieties; but all these happenings, though wonderfuland unusual, had seemed to be, after all, inside the circle of possiblethings--wonderful as the chemical experiments are where two liquidspoured together make fire, surprising as legerdemain, thrilling as ajuggler's display, but nothing more. Only now a new feeling came to himas he walked through those gardens; by day those gardens were likedreams, at night they were like visions. He could not see his feet as hewalked, but he saw the movement of the dewy grass-blades that his feetdisplaced. And he had that extraordinary feeling so difficult todescribe, and yet so real and so unforgettable--the feeling that he wasin another world, that had covered up and hidden the old world as acarpet covers a floor. The floor was there all right, underneath, butwhat he walked on was the carpet that covered it--and that carpet wasdrenched in magic, as the turf was drenched in dew.
The feeling was very wonderful; perhaps you will feel it some day. Thereare still some places in the world where it can be felt, but they growfewer every year.
The enchantment of the garden held him.
"I'll not go in yet," he told himself; "it's too early. And perhaps Ishall never be here at night again. I suppose it _is_ the night thatmakes everything look so different."
Something white moved under a weeping willow; white hands parted thelong, rustling leaves. A white figure came out, a creature with hornsand goat's legs and the head and arms of a boy. And Gerald was notafraid. That was the most wonderful thing of all, though he would neverhave owned it. The white thing stretched its limbs, rolled on the grass,righted itself, and frisked away across the lawn. Still something whitegleamed under the willow; three steps nearer and Gerald saw that it wasthe pedestal of a statue--empty.
"They come alive," he said; and another white shape came out of theTemple of Flora and disappeared in the laurels. "The statues comealive."
THE MOVING STONE BEAST.]
There was a crunching of the little stones in the gravel of the drive.Something enormously long and darkly grey came crawling towards him,slowly, heavily. The moon came out just in time to show its shape. Itwas one of those great lizards that you see at the Crystal Palace,made in stone, of the same awful size which they were millions of yearsago when they were masters of the world, before Man was.
"It can't see me," said Gerald. "I am not afraid. _It's_ come to life,too."
As it writhed past him he reached out a hand and touched the side of itsgigantic tail. It was of stone. It had not "come alive," as he hadfancied, but _was_ alive in its stone. It turned, however, at the touch;but Gerald also had turned, and was running with all his speed towardsthe house. Because at that stony touch Fear had come into the garden andalmost caught him. It was Fear that he ran from, and not the movingstone b
east.
He stood panting under the fifth window; when he had climbed to thewindow-ledge by the twisted ivy that clung to the wall, he looked backover the grey slope--there was a splashing at the fish-pool that hadmirrored the stars--the shape of the great stone beast was wallowing inthe shallows among the lily-pads.
Once inside the room, Gerald turned for another look. The fish-pond laystill and dark, reflecting the moon. Through a gap in the droopingwillow the moonlight fell on a statue that stood calm and motionless onits pedestal. Everything was in its place now in the garden. Nothingmoved or stirred.
"How extraordinarily rum!" said Gerald. "I shouldn't have thought you_could_ go to sleep walking through a garden and dream--like that."
He shut the window, lit a match, and closed the shutters. Another matchshowed him the door. He turned the key, went out, locked the door again,hung the key on its usual nail, and crept to the end of the passage.Here he waited, safe in his invisibility, till the dazzle of the matchesshould have gone from his eyes, and he be once more able to find his wayby the moonlight that fell in bright patches on the floor through thebarred, unshuttered windows of the hall.
"Wonder where the kitchen is," said Gerald. He had quite forgotten thathe was a detective. He was only anxious to get home and tell the othersabout that extraordinarily odd dream that he had had in the gardens. "Isuppose it doesn't matter _what_ doors I open. I'm invisible all rightstill, I suppose? Yes; can't see my hand before my face." He held up ahand for the purpose. "Here goes!"
He opened many doors, wandered into long rooms with furniture dressed inbrown holland covers that looked white in that strange light, rooms withchandeliers hanging in big bags from the high ceilings, rooms whosewalls were alive with pictures, rooms whose walls were deadened withrows on rows of old books, state bedrooms in whose great plumedfour-posters Queen Elizabeth had no doubt slept. (That Queen, by theway, must have been very little at home, for she seems to have slept inevery old house in England.) But he could not find the kitchen. At lasta door opened on stone steps that went up--there was a narrow stonepassage--steps that went down--a door with a light under it. It was,somehow, difficult to put out one's hand to that door and open it.
"Nonsense!" Gerald told himself; "don't be an ass! Are you invisible, oraren't you?"
Then he opened the door, and some one inside said something in a suddenrough growl.
Gerald stood back, flattened against the wall, as a man sprang to thedoorway and flashed a lantern into the passage.
"All right," said the man, with almost a sob of relief. "It was only thedoor swung open, it's that heavy--that's all."
"Blow the door!" said another growling voice; "blessed if I didn't thinkit was a fair cop that time."
They closed the door again. Gerald did not mind. In fact, he ratherpreferred that it should be so. He didn't like the look of those men.There was an air of threat about them. In their presence eveninvisibility seemed too thin a disguise. And Gerald had seen as much ashe wanted to see. He had seen that he had been right about the gang. Bywonderful luck--beginner's luck, a card-player would have told him--hehad discovered a burglary on the very first night of his detectivecareer. The men were taking silver out of two great chests, wrapping itin rags, and packing it in baize sacks. The door of the room was of ironsix inches thick. It was, in fact, the strong-room, and these men hadpicked the lock. The tools they had done it with lay on the floor, on aneat cloth roll, such as wood-carvers keep their chisels in.
"Hurry up!" Gerald heard. "You needn't take all night over it."
The silver rattled slightly. "You're a rattling of them trays likebloomin' castanets," said the gruffest voice. Gerald turned and wentaway, very carefully and very quickly. And it is a most curious thingthat, though he couldn't find the way to the servants' wing when he hadnothing else to think of, yet now, with his mind full, so to speak, ofsilver forks and silver cups, and the question of who might be comingafter him down those twisting passages, he went straight as an arrow tothe door that led from the hall to the place he wanted to get to.
As he went the happenings took words in his mind.
"The fortunate detective," he told himself, "having succeeded beyond hiswildest dreams, himself left the spot in search of assistance."
But what assistance? There were, no doubt, men in the house, also theaunt; but he could not warn them. He was too hopelessly invisible tocarry any weight with strangers. The assistance of Mabel would not be ofmuch value. The police? Before they could be got--and the getting ofthem presented difficulties--the burglars would have cleared away withtheir sacks of silver.
THE MEN WERE TAKING SILVER OUT OF TWO GREAT CHESTS.]
Gerald stopped and thought hard; he held his head with both hands to doit. You know the way--the same as you sometimes do for simpleequations or the dates of the battles of the Civil War.
Then with pencil, note-book, a window-ledge, and all the cleverness hecould find at the moment, he wrote:--
"_You know the room where the silver is. Burglars are burgling it, the thick door is picked. Send a man for police. I will follow the burglars if they get away ere police arrive on the spot._"
He hesitated a moment, and ended--
"_From a Friend--this is not a sell._"
This letter, tied tightly round a stone by means of a shoe-lace,thundered through the window of the room where Mabel and her aunt, inthe ardour of reunion, were enjoying a supper of unusual charm--stewedplums, cream, sponge-cakes, custard in cups, and cold bread-and-butterpudding.
Gerald, in hungry invisibility, looked wistfully at the supper before hethrew the stone. He waited till the shrieks had died away, saw the stonepicked up, the warning letter read.
"Nonsense!" said the aunt, growing calmer. "How wicked! Of course it's ahoax."
"Oh! do send for the police, like he says," wailed Mabel.
"Like who says?" snapped the aunt.
"Whoever it is," Mabel moaned.
"Send for the police at once," said Gerald, outside, in the manliestvoice he could find.
"You'll only blame yourself if you don't. I can't do any more for you."
"I--I'll set the dogs on you!" cried the aunt.
"Oh, auntie, _don't_!" Mabel was dancing with agitation. "It's true--Iknow it's true. Do--do wake Bates!"
"I don't believe a word of it," said the aunt. No more did Bates when,owing to Mabel's persistent worryings, he was awakened. But when he hadseen the paper, and had to choose whether he'd go to the strong-room andsee that there really wasn't anything to believe or go for the police onhis bicycle, he chose the latter course.
When the police arrived the strong-room door stood ajar, and the silver,or as much of it as three men could carry, was gone.
Gerald's note-book and pencil came into play again later on that night.It was five in the morning before he crept into bed, tired out and coldas a stone.
= = = = =
"Master Gerald!"--it was Eliza's voice in his ears--"it's seven o'clockand another fine day, and there's been another burglary---- My catsalive!" she screamed, as she drew up the blind and turned towards thebed; "look at his bed, all crocked with black, and him not there! Oh,Jimminy!" It was a scream this time. Kathleen came running from herroom; Jimmy sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.
"Whatever is it?" Kathleen cried.
"I dunno when I 'ad such a turn." Eliza sat down heavily on a box asshe spoke. "First thing his bed all empty and black as the chimley back,and him not in it, and then when I looks again he _is_ in it all thetime. I must be going silly. I thought as much when I heard themhaunting angel voices yesterday morning. But I'll tell Mam'selle of you,my lad, with your tricks, you may rely on that. Blacking yourself allover like a dirty nigger and crocking up your clean sheets andpillow-cases. It's going back of beyond, this is."
"Look here," said Gerald slowly; "I'm going to tell you something."
Eliza simply snorted, and that was rude of her; but then, she had had as
hock and had not got over it.
"Can you keep a secret?" asked Gerald, very earnest through the grey ofhis partly rubbed-off blacklead.
"Yes," said Eliza.
"Then keep it and I'll give you two bob."
"But what was you going to tell me?"
"That. About the two bob and the secret. And you keep your mouth shut."
"I didn't ought to take it," said Eliza, holding out her hand eagerly."Now you get up, and mind you wash all the corners, Master Gerald."
"Oh, I'm so glad you're safe," said Kathleen, when Eliza had gone.
"You didn't seem to care much last night," said Gerald coldly.
"I can't think how I let you go. I didn't care last night. But when Iwoke this morning and remembered!"
"There, that'll do--it'll come off on you," said Gerald through thereckless hugging of his sister.
"How did you get visible?" Jimmy asked.
"It just happened when she called me--the ring came off."
"Tell us all about everything," said Kathleen.
"Not yet," said Gerald mysteriously.
= = = = =
"Where's the ring?" Jimmy asked after breakfast. "_I_ want to have a trynow."
"I--I forgot it," said Gerald; "I expect it's in the bed somewhere."
But it wasn't. Eliza had made the bed.
"I'll swear there aint no ring there," she said. "I should 'a' seen itif there had 'a' been."