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Chapter 14
I
At the receipt of custom behind the bar sat Miss Benjafield,
stately as ever, relaxing her massive mind over a penny novelette.
'Who was the man who just left, Miss Benjafield?' I asked.
She marked the place with a shapely thumb and looked up.
'The man? Oh, _him_! He's--why, weren't you in here, Mr Burns,
one evening in January when--'
'That American?'
'That's him. What he's doing here I don't know. He disappeared
quite a while back, and I haven't seen him since. _Nor_ want.
Tonight up he turns again like a bad ha'penny. I'd like to know
what he's after. No good, if you ask _me_.'
Miss Benjafield's prejudices did not easily dissolve. She prided
herself, as she frequently observed, on knowing her own mind.
'Is he staying here?'
'Not at the "Feathers". We're particular who we have here.'
I thanked her for the implied compliment, ordered beer for the
good of the house, and, lighting a pipe, sat down to meditate on
this new development.
The vultures were gathered together with a vengeance. Sam within,
Buck without, it was quite like old times, with the difference
that now, I, too, was on the wrong side of the school door.
It was not hard to account for Buck's reappearance. He would, of
course, have made it his business to get early information of Mr
Ford's movements. It would be easy for him to discover that the
millionaire had been called away to the north and that the Nugget
was still an inmate of Sanstead House. And here he was preparing
for the grand attack.
I had been premature in removing Buck's name from the list of
active combatants. Broken legs mend. I ought to have remembered
that.
His presence on the scene made, I perceived, a vast difference to
my plan of campaign. It was at this point that my purchase of the
Browning pistol lost its absurdity and appeared in the light of an
acute strategic move. With Sam the only menace, I had been
prepared to play a purely waiting game, watching proceedings from
afar, ready to give my help if necessary. To check Buck, more
strenuous methods were called for.
My mind was made up. With Buck, that stout disciple of the frontal
attack, in the field, there was only one place for me. I must get
into Sanstead House and stay there on guard.
Did he intend to make an offensive movement tonight? That was the
question which occupied my mind. From the point of view of an
opponent, there was this merit about Mr MacGinnis, that he was
not subtle. He could be counted on with fair certainty to do
the direct thing. Sooner or later he would make another of his
vigorous frontal attacks upon the stronghold. The only point to be
decided was whether he would make it that night. Would professional
zeal cause him to omit his beauty sleep?
I did not relish the idea of spending the night patrolling the
grounds, but it was imperative that the house be protected. Then
it occurred to me that the man for the vigil was Smooth Sam. If
the arrival of Mr MacGinnis had complicated matters in one way, it
had simplified them in another, for there was no more need for the
secrecy which had been, till now, the basis of my plan of action.
Buck's arrival made it possible for me to come out and fight in
the open, instead of brooding over Sanstead House from afar like a
Providence. Tomorrow I proposed to turn Sam out. Tonight I would use
him. The thing had resolved itself into a triangular tournament,
and Sam and Buck should play the first game.
Once more I called up the house on the telephone. There was a long
delay before a reply came. It was Mr Fisher's voice that spoke.
Audrey, apparently, had not returned to the house immediately
after leaving me.
'Hullo!' said Sam.
'Good evening, Mr Fisher.'
'Gee! Is that you, young fellow-me-lad? Are you speaking from
London?'
'No. I am at the "Feathers".'
He chuckled richly.
'Can't tear yourself away? Hat still in the ring? Say, what's the
use? Why not turn it up, sonny? You're only wasting your time.'
'Do you sleep lightly, Mr Fisher?'
'I don't get you.'
'You had better do so tonight. Buck MacGinnis is back again.'
There was silence at the other end of the wire. Then I heard him
swear softly. The significance of the information had not been
lost on Mr Fisher.
'Is that straight?'
'It is.'
'You're not stringing me?'
'Certainly not.'
'You're sure it was Buck?'
'Is Buck's the sort of face one forgets?'
He swore again.
'You seem disturbed,' I said.
'Where did you see him?' asked Sam.
'Coming out of the "Feathers", looking very fierce and determined.
The Berserk blood of the MacGinnises is up. He's going to do or
die. I'm afraid this means an all-night sitting for you, Mr
Fisher.'
'I thought you had put him out of business!'
There was a somewhat querulous note in his voice.
'Only temporarily. I did my best, but he wasn't even limping when
I saw him.'
He did not speak for a moment. I gathered that he was pondering
over the new development.
'Thanks for tipping me off, sonny. It's a thing worth knowing. Why
did you do it?'
'Because I love you, Samuel. Good night.'
I rose late and breakfasted at my leisure. The peace of the
English country inn enveloped me as I tilted back my chair and
smoked the first pipe of the morning. It was a day to hearten a
man for great deeds, one of those days of premature summer which
comes sometimes to help us bear the chill winds of early spring.
The sun streamed in through the open window. In the yard below
fowls made their soothing music. The thought of violence seemed
very alien to such a morning.
I strolled out into the Square. I was in no hurry to end this
interlude of peace and embark on what, for all practical purposes,
would be a siege.
After lunch, I decided, would be time enough to begin active
campaigning.
The clock on the church tower was striking two as I set forth,
carrying my suit-case, on my way to the school. The light-heartedness
of the morning still lingered with me. I was amused at the thought
of the surprise I was about to give Mr Fisher. That wink still
rankled.
As I made my way through the grounds I saw Audrey in the distance,
walking with the Nugget. I avoided them and went on into the
house.
About the house there was the same air of enchanted quiet which
pervaded the grounds. Perhaps the stillness indoors was even more
insistent. I had grown so accustomed to the never-ending noise and
bustle of the boys' quarters that, as I crossed the silent hall, I
had an almost guilty sense of intrusion. I felt like a burglar.
Sam, the object of my visit, would, I imagined, if he were in the
house at all, be in the housekeeper's room, a cosy little apartment
off the passage leading to the kitchen. I decided to draw that
first, and was rewarded, on pushing open the half-closed door, by
the sight of a pair of black-trousered legs stretched out before me
from the depths of a wicker-work armchair. His portly middle
section, rising beyond like a small hill, heaved rhythmically. His
face was covered with a silk handkerchief, from beneath which came,
in even succession, faint and comfortable snores. It was a peaceful
picture--the good man taking his rest; and for me it had an added
attractiveness in that it suggested that Sam was doing by day what
my information had prevented him from doing in the night. It had
been some small consolation to me, as I lay trying to compose my
anxious mind for sleep on the previous night, that Mr Fisher also
was keeping his vigil.
Pleasing as Sam was as a study in still life, pressure of business
compelled me to stir him into activity. I prodded him gently in
the centre of the rising territory beyond the black trousers. He
grunted discontentedly and sat up. The handkerchief fell from his
face, and he blinked at me, first with the dazed glassiness of the
newly awakened, then with a 'Soul's Awakening' expression, which
spread over his face until it melted into a friendly smile.
'Hello, young man!'
'Good afternoon. You seem tired.'
He yawned cavernously.
'Lord! What a night!'
'Did Buck drop in?'
'No, but I thought he had every time I heard a board creak. I
didn't dare close my eyes for a minute. Have you ever stayed awake
all night, waiting for the goblins that get you if you don't watch
out? Well, take it from me it's no picnic.'
His face split in another mammoth yawn. He threw his heart into
it, as if life held no other tasks for him. Only in alligators
have I ever seen its equal.
I waited till the seismic upheaval had spent itself. Then I came
to business.
'I'm sorry you had a disturbed night, Mr Fisher. You must make up
for it this afternoon. You will find the beds very comfortable.'
'How's that?'
'At the "Feathers". I should go there, if I were you. The charges
are quite reasonable, and the food is good. You will like the
"Feathers".'
'I don't get you, sonny.'
'I was trying to break it gently to you that you are about to move
from this house. Now. At once. Take your last glimpse of the old
home, Sam, and out into the hard world.'
He looked at me inquiringly.
'You seem to be talking, young man; words appear to be fluttering
from you; but your meaning, if any, escapes me.'
'My meaning is that I am about to turn you out. I am coming back
here, and there is not room for both of us. So, if you do not see
your way to going quietly, I shall take you by the back of the
neck and run you out. Do I make myself fairly clear now?'
He permitted himself a rich chuckle.
'You have gall, young man. Well, I hate to seem unfriendly. I like
you, sonny. You amuse me--but there are moments when one wants to
be alone. I have a whole heap of arrears of sleep to make up. Trot
along, kiddo, and quit disturbing uncle. Tie a string to yourself
and disappear. Bye-bye.'
The wicker-work creaked as he settled his stout body. He picked up
the handkerchief.
'Mr Fisher,' I said, 'I have no wish to propel your grey hairs at
a rapid run down the drive, so I will explain further. I am
physically stronger than you. I mean to turn you out. How can you
prevent it? Mr Abney is away. You can't appeal to him. The police
are at the end of the telephone, but you can't appeal to them. So
what _can_ you do, except go? Do you get me now?'
He regarded the situation in thoughtful silence. He allowed no
emotion to find expression in his face, but I knew that the
significance of my remarks had sunk in. I could almost follow his
mind as he tested my position point by point and found it
impregnable.
When he spoke it was to accept defeat jauntily.
'You _are_ my jinx, young man. I said it all along. You're
really set on my going? Say no more. I'll go. After all, it's
quiet at the inn, and what more does a man want at my time of
life?'
I went out into the garden to interview Audrey.
She was walking up and down on the tennis-lawn. The Nugget,
lounging in a deck-chair, appeared to be asleep.
She caught sight of me as I came out from the belt of trees, and
stopped. I had the trying experience of walking across open
country under hostile observation.
The routing of Sam had left me alert and self-confident. I felt no
embarrassment. I greeted her briskly.
'Good afternoon. I have been talking to Sam Fisher. If you wait,
you will see him passing away down the drive. He is leaving the
house. I am coming back.'
'Coming back?'
She spoke incredulously, or, rather, as if my words had conveyed
no meaning. It was so that Sam had spoken. Her mind, like his,
took time to adjust itself to the unexpected.
She seemed to awake to my meaning with a start.
'Coming back?' Her eyes widened. The flush deepened on her cheeks.
'But I told you--'
'I know what you told me. You said you did not trust me. It
doesn't matter. I am coming back whether you trust me or not. This
house is under martial law, and I am in command. The situation has
changed since I spoke to you last night. Last night I was ready to
let you have your way. I intended to keep an eye on things from
the inn. But it's different now. It is not a case of Sam Fisher
any longer. You could have managed Sam. It's Buck MacGinnis now,
the man who came that night in the automobile. I saw him in the
village after I left you. He's dangerous.'
She looked away, past me, in the direction of the drive. I
followed her gaze. A stout figure, carrying a suit-case, was
moving slowly down it.
I smiled. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the anger that had been
lying at the back of them flash out. Her chin went up with the old
defiant tilt. I was sorry I had smiled. It was my old fault, the
complacency that would not be hidden.
'I don't believe you!' she cried. 'I don't trust you!'
It is curious how one's motive for embarking on a course of
conduct changes or disappears altogether as the action develops.
Once started on an enterprise it is as if one proceeded with it
automatically, irrespective of one's original motives. I had begun
what I might call the second phase of this matter of the Little
Nugget, the abandoning of Cynthia's cause in favour of Audrey's,
with a clear idea of why I was doing it. I had set myself to
resist the various forces which were trying to take Ogden from
Audrey, for one simple reason, because I loved Audrey and wished
to help her. That motive, if it still existed at all, did so only
in the form of abstract chivalry. My personal feelings towards her
seemed to have undergone a complete change, dating from our
parting in the road the night before. I found myself now meeting
hostility with hostility. I looked at her critically and told
myself that her spell was broken at last, that, if she disliked
me, I was at least indifferent to her.
And yet, despite my altered feelings, my determination to help her
never wavered. The guarding of Ogden might be--primarily--no
business of mine, but I had adopted it as my business.
'I don't ask you to trust me,' I said. 'We have settled all that.
There's no need to go over old ground. Think what you please about
this. I've made up my mind.'
'If you mean to stay, I suppose I can't prevent you.'
'Exactly.'
Sam appeared again in a gap in the trees, walking slowly and
pensively, as one retreating from his Moscow. Her eyes followed
him till he was out of sight.
'If you like,' I said bitterly, 'you may put what I am doing down
to professional rivalry. If I am in love with Mrs Ford and am here
to steal Ogden for her, it is natural for me to do all I can to
prevent Buck MacGinnis getting him. There is no need for you to
look on me as an ally because we are working together.'
'We are not working together.'
'We shall be in a very short time. Buck will not let another night
go by without doing something.'
'I don't believe that you saw him.'
'Just as you please,' I said, and walked away. What did it matter
to me what she believed?
The day dragged on. Towards evening the weather broke suddenly,
after the fashion of spring in England. Showers of rain drove me
to the study.
It must have been nearly ten o'clock when the telephone rang.
It was Mr Fisher.
'Hello, is that you, sonny?'
'It is. Do you want anything?'
'I want a talk with you. Business. Can I come up?'
'If you wish it.'
'I'll start right away.'
It was some fifteen minutes later that I heard in the distance the
engines of an automobile. The headlights gleamed through the
trees, and presently the car swept round the bend of the drive and
drew up at the front door. A portly figure got down and rang the
bell. I observed these things from a window on the first floor,
overlooking the front steps; and it was from this window that I
spoke.
'Is that you, Mr Fisher?'
He backed away from the door.
'Where are you?'
'Is that your car?'
'It belongs to a friend of mine.'
'I didn't know you meant to bring a party.'
'There's only three of us. Me, the chauffeur, and my friend--MacGinnis.'
The possibility, indeed the probability, of Sam seeking out Buck
and forming an alliance had occurred to me, and I was prepared for
it. I shifted my grip on the automatic pistol in my hand.
'Mr Fisher.'
'Hello!'
'Ask your friend MacGinnis to be good enough to step into the
light of that lamp and drop his gun.'
There was a muttered conversation. I heard Buck's voice rumbling
like a train going under a bridge. The request did not appear to
find favour with him. Then came an interlude of soothing speech
from Mr Fisher. I could not distinguish the words, but I gathered
that he was pointing out to him that, on this occasion only, the
visit being for the purposes of parley and not of attack, pistols
might be looked on as non-essentials. Whatever his arguments, they
were successful, for, finally, humped as to the back and
muttering, Buck moved into the light.
'Good evening, Mr MacGinnis,' I said. 'I'm glad to see your leg is
all right again. I won't detain you a moment. Just feel in your
pockets and shed a few of your guns, and then you can come in out
of the rain. To prevent any misunderstanding, I may say I have a
gun of my own. It is trained on you now.'
'I ain't got no gun.'
'Come along. This is no time for airy persiflage. Out with them.'
A moment's hesitation, and a small black pistol fell to the
ground.
'No more?'
'Think I'm a regiment?'
'I don't know what you are. Well, I'll take your word for it. You
will come in one by one, with your hands up.'
I went down and opened the door, holding my pistol in readiness
against the unexpected.
II
Sam came first. His raised hands gave him a vaguely pontifical air
(Bishop Blessing Pilgrims), and the kindly smile he wore
heightened the illusion. Mr MacGinnis, who followed, suggested no
such idea. He was muttering moodily to himself, and he eyed me
askance.
I showed them into the classroom and switched on the light. The
air was full of many odours. Disuse seems to bring out the
inky-chalky, appley-deal-boardy bouquet of a classroom as the
night brings out the scent of flowers. During the term I had never
known this classroom smell so exactly like a classroom. I made use
of my free hand to secure and light a cigarette.
Sam rose to a point of order.
'Young man,' he said. I should like to remind you that we are
here, as it were, under a flag of truce. To pull a gun on us and
keep us holding our hands up this way is raw work. I feel sure I
speak for my friend Mr MacGinnis.'
He cocked an eye at his friend Mr MacGinnis, who seconded the
motion by expectorating into the fireplace. I had observed at a
previous interview his peculiar gift for laying bare his soul by
this means of mode of expression. A man of silent habit, judged by
the more conventional standard of words, he was almost an orator
in expectoration.
'Mr MacGinnis agrees with me,' said Sam cheerfully. 'Do we take
them down? Have we your permission to assume Position Two of these
Swedish exercises? All we came for was a little friendly chat
among gentlemen, and we can talk just as well--speaking for
myself, better--in a less strained attitude. A little rest, Mr
Burns! A little folding of the hands? Thank you.'
He did not wait for permission, nor was it necessary. Sam and the
melodramatic atmosphere was as oil and water. It was impossible to
blend them. I laid the pistol on the table and sat down. Buck,
after one wistful glance at the weapon, did the same. Sam was
already seated, and was looking so cosy and at home that I almost
felt it remiss of me not to have provided sherry and cake for this
pleasant gathering.
'Well,' I said, 'what can I do for you?'
'Let me explain,' said Sam. 'As you have, no doubt, gathered, Mr
MacGinnis and I have gone into partnership. The Little Nugget
Combine!'
'I gathered that--well?'
'Judicious partnerships are the soul of business. Mr MacGinnis and
I have been rivals in the past, but we both saw that the moment
had come for the genial smile, the hearty handshake, in fact, for
an alliance. We form a strong team, sonny. My partner's speciality
is action. I supply the strategy. Say, can't you see you're up
against it? Why be foolish?'
'You think you're certain to win?'
'It's a cinch.'
'Then why trouble to come here and see me?'
I appeared to have put into words the smouldering thought which
was vexing Mr MacGinnis. He burst into speech.
'Ahr chee! Sure! What's de use? Didn't I tell youse? What's de use
of wastin' time? What are we spielin' away here for? Let's get
busy.'
Sam waved a hand towards him with the air of a lecturer making a
point.
'You see! The man of action! He likes trouble. He asks for it. He
eats it alive. Now I prefer peace. Why have a fuss when you can
get what you want quietly? That's my motto. That's why we've come.
It's the old proposition. We're here to buy you out. Yes, I know
you have turned the offer down before, but things have changed.
Your stock has fallen. In fact, instead of letting you in on
sharing terms, we only feel justified now in offering a commission.
For the moment you may seem to hold a strong position. You are in
the house, and you've got the boy. But there's nothing to it really.
We could get him in five minutes if we cared to risk having a fuss.
But it seems to me there's no need of any fuss. We should win dead
easy all right, if it came to trouble; but, on the other hand,
you've a gun, and there's a chance some of us might get hurt, so
what's the good when we can settle it quietly? How about it, sonny?'
Mr MacGinnis began to rumble, preparatory to making further
remarks on the situation, but Sam waved him down and turned his
brown eyes inquiringly on me.
'Fifteen per cent is our offer,' he said.
'And to think it was once fifty-fifty!'
'Strict business!'
'Business? It's sweating!'
'It's our limit. And it wasn't easy to make Buck here agree to
that. He kicked like a mule.'
Buck shuffled his feet and eyed me disagreeably. I suppose it is
hard to think kindly of a man who has broken your leg. It was
plain that, with Mr MacGinnis, bygones were by no means bygones.
I rose.
'Well, I'm sorry you should have had the trouble of coming here
for nothing. Let me see you out. Single file, please.'
Sam looked aggrieved.
'You turn it down?'
'I do.'
'One moment. Let's have this thing clear. Do you realize what
you're up against? Don't think it's only Buck and me you've got to
tackle. All the boys are here, waiting round the corner, the same
gang that came the other night. Be sensible, sonny. You don't
stand a dog's chance. I shouldn't like to see you get hurt. And
you never know what may not happen. The boys are pretty sore at
you because of what you did that night. I shouldn't act like a
bonehead, sonny--honest.'
There was a kindly ring in his voice which rather touched me.
Between him and me there had sprung up an odd sort of friendship.
He meant business; but he would, I knew, be genuinely sorry if I
came to harm. And I could see that he was quite sincere in his
belief that I was in a tight corner and that my chances against
the Combine were infinitesimal. I imagine that, with victory so
apparently certain, he had had difficulty in persuading his allies
to allow him to make his offer.
But he had overlooked one thing--the telephone. That he should
have made this mistake surprised me. If it had been Buck, I could
have understood it. Buck's was a mind which lent itself to such
blunders. From Sam I had expected better things, especially as the
telephone had been so much in evidence of late. He had used it
himself only half an hour ago.
I clung to the thought of the telephone. It gave me the quiet
satisfaction of the gambler who holds the unforeseen ace. The
situation was in my hands. The police, I knew, had been profoundly
stirred by Mr MacGinnis's previous raid. When I called them up, as
I proposed to do directly the door had closed on the ambassadors,
there would be no lack of response. It would not again be a case
of Inspector Bones and Constable Johnson to the rescue. A great
cloud of willing helpers would swoop to our help.
With these thoughts in my mind, I answered Sam pleasantly but
firmly.
'I'm sorry I'm unpopular, but all the same--'
I indicated the door.
Emotion that could only be expressed in words and not through his
usual medium welled up in Mr MacGinnis. He sprang forward with a
snarl, falling back as my faithful automatic caught his eye.
'Say, you! Listen here! You'll--'
Sam, the peaceable, plucked at his elbow.
'Nothing doing, Buck. Step lively.'
Buck wavered, then allowed himself to be drawn away. We passed out
of the classroom in our order of entry.
An exclamation from the stairs made me look up. Audrey was leaning
over the banisters. Her face was in the shadow, but I gathered
from her voice that the sight of our little procession had
startled her. I was not surprised. Buck was a distinctly startling
spectacle, and his habit of growling to himself, as he walked,
highly disturbing to strangers.
'Good evening, Mrs Sheridan,' said Sam suavely.
Audrey did not speak. She seemed fascinated by Buck.
I opened the front door and they passed out. The automobile was
still purring on the drive. Buck's pistol had disappeared. I
supposed the chauffeur had picked it up, a surmise which was
proved correct a few moments later, when, just as the car was
moving off, there was a sharp crack and a bullet struck the wall
to the right of the door. It was a random shot, and I did not
return it. Its effect on me was to send me into the hall with a
leap that was almost a back-somersault. Somehow, though I was
keyed up for violence and the shooting of pistols, I had not
expected it at just that moment, and I was disagreeably surprised
at the shock it had given me. I slammed the door and bolted it. I
was intensely irritated to find that my fingers were trembling.
Audrey had left the stairs and was standing beside me.
'They shot at me,' I said.
By the light of the hall lamp I could see that she was very pale.
'It missed by a mile.' My nerves had not recovered and I spoke
abruptly. 'Don't be frightened.'
'I--I was not frightened,' she said, without conviction.
'I was,' I said, with conviction. 'It was too sudden for me. It's
the sort of thing one wants to get used to gradually. I shall be
ready for it another time.'
I made for the stairs.
'Where are you going?'
'I'm going to call up the police-station.'
'Peter.'
'Yes?'
'Was--was that man the one you spoke of?'
'Yes, that was Buck MacGinnis. He and Sam have gone into
partnership.'
She hesitated.
'I'm sorry,' she said.
I was half-way up the stairs by this time. I stopped and looked
over the banisters.
'Sorry?'
'I didn't believe you this afternoon.'
'Oh, that's all right,' I said. I tried to make my voice
indifferent, for I was on guard against insidious friendliness. I
had bludgeoned my mind into an attitude of safe hostility towards
her, and I saw the old chaos ahead if I allowed myself to abandon
it.
I went to the telephone and unhooked the receiver.
There is apt to be a certain leisureliness about the methods of
country telephone-operators, and the fact that a voice did not
immediately ask me what number I wanted did not at first disturb
me. Suspicion of the truth came to me, I think, after my third
shout into the receiver had remained unanswered. I had suffered
from delay before, but never such delay as this.
I must have remained there fully two minutes, shouting at
intervals, before I realized the truth. Then I dropped the
receiver and leaned limply against the wall. For the moment I was
as stunned as if I had received a blow. I could not even think. It
was only by degrees that I recovered sufficiently to understand
that Audrey was speaking to me.
'What is it? Don't they answer?'
It is curious how the mind responds to the need for making an
effort for the sake of somebody else. If I had had only myself to
think of, it would, I believe, have been a considerable time
before I could have adjusted my thoughts to grapple with this
disaster. But the necessity of conveying the truth quietly to
Audrey and of helping her to bear up under it steadied me at once.
I found myself thinking quite coolly how best I might break to her
what had happened.
'I'm afraid,' I said, 'I have something to tell you which may--'
She interrupted me quickly.
'What is it? Can't you make them answer?'
I shook my head. We looked at each other in silence.
Her mind leaped to the truth more quickly than mine had done.
'They have cut the wire!'
I took up the receiver again and gave another call. There was no
reply.
'I'm afraid so,' I said.
Content of Part 2 - Peter Burns' Narrative: Chapter 14 [P G Wodehouse's novel: The Little Nugget]
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