Chapter 41

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

Tom was some ten feet or so from the ground when he described an arc in the darkness, so that it was not a very serious fall, but bad enough to knock the sense out of him for a moment or two, and the worse from its coming so closely upon his bumping down the upper steps. Consequently he lay quite still with the ladder upon him for a while, with a dim idea that he could hear whispering, scrambling, and then the patter of steps somewhere not far away.

Those footsteps were still to be heard when the boy thrust the ladder over, rose very slowly to a sitting position, and tried to look round him, seeing more stars than he had when he knelt at his bedroom window, these too having a peculiar circling motion of their own, which made his head ache violently.

"He's got the best of me again," said the boy rather piteously, "for it's no good to go after him now."

Tom had the organ of order sufficiently developed to make him wish to pick up and return the ladder instead of leaving it lying in the yard; but he felt shaken up, and the feeling of confusion came upon him again so strongly that he stood thinking for a few minutes, and then went and unlocked the gate, listened a while, and then locked it after him and crossed the lane into the garden.

The next minute he was under his bedroom window, feeling unwilling to climb up, for he was getting cold and stiff; but he dragged himself on to the sill, got in, and without stopping to undress, threw himself on the bed and fell into a sound sleep, in which he dreamed that two policemen came down from London with the big black prison van and carried off Pete Warboys, who was taken to the Old Bailey to be tried for stealing the round wooden dome-shaped structure which formed the top of the mill.

He was awakened next morning soon after six by the pattering at his window of some scraps of fine gravel, and jumping off the bed he found David below on the lawn.

"Here, look sharp and come down, Master Tom," cried the gardener excitedly.

"What's the matter?" said Tom, whose mind was rather blank as to the past night's business.

"Some 'un's been in the night and stole the tallowscoop."

"Nonsense!"

"But they have, sir. It's as fact as fack. There's the top wooden window open, and Jellard's long fruit-ladder lying in the yard."

Tom hurried down at once, to find the ladder just as he had left it; and on entering the mill, closely followed by David, he looked round for traces of the burglarious work that must have been done.

But all was in its ordinary state in the workshop, and after a sharp investigation, Tom was on his way to the steps, when David looked at him in a half-injured way as if disappointed.

"What, arn't nothing stole here, sir?"

"No; everything seems to be right," replied Tom.

"Well, I should ha' thought they'd ha' took the spacklums or something while they was about it."

But matters wore a different aspect upon the laboratory being reached. On the whole the place looked undisturbed, save that a rug or two had been kicked up, and a chair tilted over against the wall; but at the second glance Tom felt a thrill, for there facing him was the old walnut bureau, with its drawers open, and the contents tumbled over and over, the small top drawer to the right especially taking Tom's attention, for it hung nearly out and was perfectly empty.

There had not been much in it, only a few papers, but one was the large cartridge paper envelope, which contained the documents given to him by his uncle when that strange visit was paid. These had evidently gone; what else had been taken it was impossible to say.

"They've been at it here, Master Tom, haven't they?"

"I'm afraid so, David."

"Then hadn't I better go and fetch the policeman directly, sir?"

"No," said Tom decisively. "We must wait till uncle comes back, and see what he says."

"But they'll get right away, sir, 'fore he comes back."

"I'm afraid whoever it was has got right away, David," said Tom; and he told his companion as much of the events of the past night as he thought necessary.

"Oh, why didn't you come and call me up, Master Tom?" cried the gardener reproachfully. "If I'd been there we could ha' captivated 'em, for there must ha' been two. That there ladder couldn't ha' lifted itself up again, and stood ready for the one inside to get down."

"Yes, there must have been two," said Tom thoughtfully.

"You should ha' comed and called me, sir--you should indeed. I've got as much right to take care o' master's property when he's out as you have."

"I never thought of it, David."

"It's on'y three 'undered and forty-nine yards and a half to my cottage, sir. You might have thought o' me."

"I only wish I had," said Tom warmly. "I should have been so glad to have you."

"Well, sir, there's something in that," said David, but only to repeat himself in a reproachful tone--"It was on'y three 'undered and forty-nine yards, and what's that to a young gent like you."

"It can't be helped now, David. Let's go up-stairs."

Tom felt stiffer as he went up the step-ladder, and the whole business of the struggle in the dark came back as they stood in the observatory, where all seemed to be correct, save an overturned stool, and the position of the telescope in the middle changed.

"What's gone from here, sir?" asked David.

"I don't see anything."

"Oh, but they must have took something else, sir."

"Perhaps so, but I cannot see what."

"Then that's because you disturbed 'em, sir. They was ramshacking your uncle's desk thing when you come. Tend upon it that was it. Oh, I do wish I'd been there just at the bottom of the ladder ready to nab 'em as they come down. Say, Master Tom--think your uncle kep' his money in that there old chest-o'-drawers thing?"

"I think he used to keep a little bag of change there," replied Tom thoughtfully; and it seemed more probable that the thieves were after that than in search of papers, which could have been of no earthly use to them, though the drawer was nearly empty all the same.

"You did get hold o' one of 'em, sir?" said David, after a pause.

"Oh, yes, more than once."

"And he felt like that there Pete Warboys, didn't he?"

"Yes--no--I don't know," said Tom confusedly; and David scratched his head.

"That's like asking a man a riddle, sir," he said. "Can't make much o' that."

"Well, what can I say, David?" cried Tom impatiently. "It was pitch dark, and I was thinking of nothing else but catching him. I could see nothing but the dim-looking windows."

"But you felt him, sir."

"Oh yes, I had hold of him."

"Well, did he feel like Pete?"

"What nonsense! One lad would feel like another."

"Oh no, sir, he wouldn't. Pete's bones'd feel all loose and shimbly. Bound to say you heared his jyntes keep on cracking."

"No, I don't remember that.--Yes, I do," continued Tom excitedly. "I did hear him go crack twice when we were wrestling."

"There you are, you see," cried the gardener triumphantly, "that's c'roborative evidence, and c'roborative evidence is what they make detective police on. It was Pete Warboys, sure enough."

"I thought it must be, David."

"Not a doubt 'bout it, sir. We've got him this time safe enough, and he'll be sent away for the job, and a blessing to Furzebrough, I say. But I'll try you again, sir. Just lead you up like. Now, then, to make more sure--you smelt him too, didn't you?"

"Smelt him?" cried Tom.

"Ay, sir, that's what I said. You could smell him yards away."

"Oh no, I didn't smell him," said Tom, laughing.

"Do you mean to tell me, Master Tom, that, you didn't smell Pete the other night when you was letting go at him with that stick atop o' our wall?"

"I remember smelling onions very strong."

"There!" cried David triumphantly. "Of course you did. I like an onion roasted, or in stuffing, or the little 'uns pickled, but that chap lives on 'em. You ask anybody in the village, and they'll tell you they can't keep an onion in their gardens for him. He's a savage at 'em. And you mean to tell me that you didn't smell onions when you was fighting with him last night?"

"No, I'm sure I didn't."

"I don't like that," said David, polishing one of his red ears. "P'r'aps he hadn't been able to steal any yesterday. But it's a wonder you didn't smell that."

"But perhaps it wasn't Pete."

"Now don't say that, my lad. There's no getting away from them bones. Nobody never had such loose bones. It was him right enough."

"Think so, David?" said Tom dubiously.

"Course I do, Master Tom. Who else would ha' knowed where to find Jellard's ladder?"

"Plenty o' people," said Tom eagerly; "all the village."

"Don't you say a word, like that, Master Tom," said the gardener solemnly, "because it arn't right. I've knowed Furzebrough man and boy ever since I was born, and there arn't a soul in it as'd go and get that ladder and break in and steal your uncle's contrapshums. I won't say as there arn't a lot o' people who talk about 'em, and believe old Mother Warboys when she says they're bad and dangerous, and like to bring evil on the place; but, bless your 'art, sir, there arn't one as would do your uncle harm. I won't say as the boys, and maybe a school-gal, wouldn't help theirselves to a happle or a pear or two as were in reach--I won't deceive you, Master Tom, I've done it myself coming home from school; but take it altogether, there arn't a honester village nowhere in Sorrey, and I'll stick to that, even if I was up before a judge, and a jury of my fellow-countrymen swore me till I was black in the face."

Tom smiled.

"Ah, you may laugh, sir," said David, shaking his head; "that's youth, and wanting to know better. I'm a bit older than you. This here's a honest place, sir. I won't say nothing about tramps from London, and furreners coming in search o' work; but you might keep gold and silver jools down here without locking your doors--leastwise if Pete Warboys warn't about; but I told you how it would be."

"Well, let's go down, David," said Tom, who could not help thinking about the proverb concerning a dog with a bad name. "This shutter must have a proper fastening. But who would have thought of any one getting a ladder? You had better take it back."

"Yes, sir, and tell old Jellard to put a chain and padlock on it, or else there's no knowing what may happen."

So after deciding to leave the old bureau just as it was until his uncle had examined and seen what was missing, and noting that it had been opened by means of some kind of chisel inserted just above the keyhole, Tom locked up, and then held the gate open for David to carry the ladder he had shouldered home.

"Nyste sort of a job, Master Tom," he said, "clearing up the bits arter robbers and thieves; but there--you never knows what you may come to in this life."

The next moment Tom had to duck his head to avoid a blow as the ladder was swung round; and that morning Mrs Fidler, who knew nothing of what had happened, took Tom aside directly after breakfast.

"I beg your pardon, Master Tom," she began, and the boy stared; "I didn't notice it before we begun, but I do now, and as master's out it makes me feel anxious. You're not well, sir."

"Oh yes, quite well," said Tom hastily.

"No, sir, you can't deceive me. But I know it's only natural for young people to say so. Physic isn't nice, sir, but it's very necessary sometimes, and if you would be advised by me you'd let me give you something this morning. Better late than never, sir."

"What, me take some medicine?" cried Tom. "Nonsense! I'm quite right."

Mrs Fidler shook her head.

"Take which you like, sir; I've got them both in my store closet. A tablespoonful of castor oil--"

"Ugh!" ejaculated Tom, with a grimace.

"--Or a cupful of prune tea."

"That sounds better," said Tom, smiling.

Mrs Fidler shook her head.

"I shouldn't like to deceive you, Master Tom," she said, "because though prune tea sounds very nice, you don't taste the French plums I make it of, but the salts and senna in which the prunes are stewed. But it's a very, very valuable medicine, my dear, and if you will be prevailed upon--Dear me! look at that now. Oh, how obstinate young folks can be!"

For at her description of the concoction of prune tea, Tom thrust his handkerchief to his mouth, and ran out into the garden, before going across to the workshop to continue the manufacture of a perfect plane of glass, such as would satisfy Uncle Richard on his return. _

Read next: Chapter 42

Read previous: Chapter 40

Table of content of Vast Abyss


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book