Chapter 43

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_ CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

Sam Brandon timed himself so accurately that he was crossing the little river-ford just as it was so dark that he could hardly make out the stepping-stones. But he got over quite dry, and after a short walk on the level, began to mount the sandy hill which formed part of the way entering Furzebrough at the top end, and led him by the fork in the road down one side of which his father had steered the bath-chair, and plunged into the soft sand of the great pit.

It was a soft, silent time, and the place seemed to be terribly lonely to one accustomed to the gas-lamps of London streets. The shadows under the hedges were so deep that they appeared likely to hide lurkers who might suddenly leap out to rob, perhaps murder, for with all his outward show in bravado, Sam Brandon felt extremely uneasy consequent about the mission which had brought him down there, and he at once decided that it would be better to walk in the middle of the road.

Five minutes later he had to take the path again, for he met a horse and cart, the driver shouting a friendly good-night, to which Sam responded with a stifled cry of alarm, for he had nearly run against a man who suddenly appeared in the darkness, but proved to be quite an inoffensive personage bound for home.

Then as the crown of the hill was reached, there was the great gloomy fir-wood, whose columns stood up quite close to the road, and under whose shade Sam had to make his way toward the village, thinking deeply the while, that after all his task was not so easy as it seemed before he came down into the country.

"No fear of being seen though," he thought, as he went on, continually on the look-out for danger to himself, but seeing none, hearing none, till he was in the deepest part of the sandy lane, with the side of the fir-wood on his right, a hedge-topped bank on the left.

It was darker now than ever; and as it was early yet for the work he had in hand, he had slackened speed, and finally stopped short, hesitating about going on.

"What a horrible, cut-throat-looking place!" he muttered, as he tried to pierce the gloom which hid the beautifully--draped sand-banks dotted with ferns, and made lovely by flowers at all times of the year. "Any one might be in hiding there, ready to spring out."

He had hardly thought this when he uttered a cry of horror, swung round, and ran as hard as he could back toward the crown of the hill, for all at once there was a peculiar sound, like the magnified hiss of some large serpent, and, looking up, he could dimly see against the starlit sky a gigantic head with curling horns, whose owner was evidently gazing down upon him where he stood in the middle of the lane twenty feet below.

Sam Brandon must have run five hundred yards back before want of breath compelled a slackening of speed, and his panic fear gave place to common-sense.

"What a fool I am!" he said to himself, with wonderful accuracy; "it must have been some precious old cow."

This thought brought him quite to a stand, and after a little consideration, he felt so certain of the cause of his alarm that he turned and continued his route again toward the village, reaching the dark part, hesitating for a few moments before going on, and now hearing up to the left and over the dimly-seen hedgerow the regular _crop, crop, crop_ of some animal grazing upon the crisp dew-wet grass.

"If anybody had told me," he muttered, "that I could have been scared by a jolly old cow, I should have kicked him. How absurd!"

He walked on now firmly enough, till, in spite of the darkness, the road became more familiar, and in due time he could see the lights at Heatherleigh, and looking up to his right against the starry sky, the top of the great mill.

It was too soon, he felt, and turning back, pretty well strung up now to what was rapidly assuming the aspect of a desperate venture, he walked on till the golden sand looked light upon his left, and showed a way into the wood. Here he turned off, walked cautiously in amongst the tall columns for a few yards, and then sat down on the fir-needles, listened to find that all was still, and taking out cigarette-case and match-box he struck a light and began to smoke, sheltering the bright burning end of the little roll of tobacco, and trying as he rested to improve his plans.

For he was hot and tired. He had found the station beyond Furzebrough quite seven miles from the village, and being a perfectly fresh route to him, it had seemed twice as far; while the fact that he wished to keep his visit a profound secret forced him to refrain from asking questions as to the way, after being instructed by the station-master at the first.

It was restful and pleasant there on the soft natural couch of sand and fir-needles, and after a time Sam's head began to bow and nod, and then, just as he was dropping off fast asleep, the cigarette, which he had been puffing at mechanically, dropped from his lips and fell in his lap.

In a few minutes the fume which had been rising changed its odour from burning vegetable to smouldering animal, and Sam leaped up with a yell of pain, to hastily clap his hands to a bright little round hole upon the leg of his trousers, where the woollen material had caught fire and burned through to his skin.

"Hang the stupid thing!" he grumbled, as he squeezed the cloth and put out the tiny glowing spark. "Must have dropped off. Looked nice if I'd slept all night in this idiotic place. Too soon yet, but I mustn't go to sleep again."

To avoid this he began to walk up and down among the trees, but carefully kept close to the road, for he grasped the fact that it would be very easy to go astray in a fir-wood at night.

Now as the dark hours are those when certain animals which live in the shade of trees choose for their rambles abroad, it so happened that one of these creatures was awake, had left its hole, and was prowling about on mischief bent, when the yell Sam Brandon uttered rose on the night air.

The first effect was to cause the prowler to start off and run; the second caused curiosity, and made the said prowler begin to crawl cautiously toward the spot from whence the cry arose, and in and out among the tree-trunks, till the shadowy figure of Sam could be seen going to and fro to avoid more sleep.

Then, as the prowler lay near at hand upon his chest watching, there came a time when Sam went down upon his knees in the densest spot near, to shelter himself from observation while he lit a fresh cigarette.

Now it so happened that the darkest spot was close to where the prowler lay without being able to escape, as it would have caused a noise, and consequent betrayal.

Then after selecting a cigarette by touch, and opening his match-box, Sam struck a little wax taper, began to light his cigarette, and naturally held the flame so near his face that, as he knelt there, it was well illumined for the benefit of the prowler, who crouched close and stared hard, expecting moment by moment to be seen.

But Sam saw nothing for the glare, while the prowler recognised his features, and lay still and waited close by the smoker till nearly another hour had elapsed, when Sam drew a long deep breath and said softly--

"Now for it."

For _it_ meant money, freedom from all domination, and, as the lad thought very unwisely, a general sense of independence of father and the whole world; though in carrying out this act he was riveting, so to speak, moral fetters round his wrists.

He had had hard work to string himself up to his task, but now he showed plenty of determination, and going back into the lane, he walked rapidly toward Heatherleigh, passing nobody on his way.

Upon reaching the bottom of the garden he hesitated for a few moments, peering over the hedge at the house; then seeking the palings, and looking over them at a spot where the trees were rather open, and, lastly, making his way to the gate, where he satisfied himself that there were only two lights visible there--in the servants' part of the house, and in the little dining-room.

Apparently contented, he walked back to where the yard wall turned off at right angles, and following this for a few yards, he climbed over and made his way like a dark shadow close up to the mill, where he stood listening and looking sharply round.

All was still, and in spite of the glittering stars, it was very dark close up to the tall brick building--so black, in fact, that unless close up, there was not the slightest probability of his being seen even by any one upon the watch.

Satisfied of this, he went softly to the door, took hold of the handle, and tried it, pressing hard at the same time, in expectation that it might yield, as people were so careless about locking up in the country. But he was soon convinced that the door was securely fastened, and he moved now to one of the workshop windows and tried it, with no result. Then he gave it a sharp shake, but there was no suggestion of its yielding, and he at once went right round to the other side and tried the window there.

The result was the same, and he uttered a low ejaculation indicative of his vexation on finding everything so secure.

"More ways than one of killing a cat," he said softly, and taking a large screw-driver from his pocket, he was in the act of thrusting its wedgelike flat point in beneath the framework of the casement when there was a step behind him, and as he turned sharply, it was to face a tall, thin, rough-looking figure, very indistinctly seen as it stood close to him, and the word "Halloo!" was whispered hoarsely almost in his ear.

For a few moments Sam was paralysed. Then he recovered himself, and stepping back he raised the screw-driver, as if it had been a short Roman sword.

"You hit me," said the shadowy figure, "and I'll let you have this hedgestake right on the head."

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" said Sam, in a subdued voice.

"And who are you, and what are you a-doin' of here?" was the retort. "You give me any of your mouth, and I'll go and ring the old man's bell."

Sam had met his match, and stood thinking what course he should pursue when his interrupter continued--

"I know: you're come because the old man arn't at home. Think I don't know yer?"

"Hush! hold your tongue!" said Sam, and for the moment he felt disposed to run for it; but there was the fact that, dark as it was, he had been recognised, and if he had any doubt it was dispelled by his companion saying with a faint laugh--

"Got any more o' them pears?"

"No," said Sam shortly; and recovering himself a little, "What do you want?"

"To see what you're a-going to do," was the reply.

"But you've no business here, sir," said Sam haughtily.

"More have you. I arn't a fool. I see you trying to break open the winders with that thing."

"It's a lie; you didn't."

"Oh yes, I did. I know; I can see in the dark. What are you after?"

Sam was silent, and the disposition was on him strongly now to strike the fellow down.

He dismissed the thought again, feeling how useless it would be to make him an enemy, and the other course now offered itself to him.

"You don't want to know what I'm after," he said, with a faint laugh. "It's only for a bit of fun."

"Not it. People don't break in at windows for fun. You give me something, or I'll go and tell."

Sam's heart leaped with satisfaction at this. Money, then, would buy the young scoundrel off, and he hastily took out a coin, and held it out so as to silence his enemy; but at the same time he felt that there was nothing to be done now but get back to town with his mission unfulfilled.

To his great delight the coin was snatched and pocketed, but he did not feel so well satisfied the next moment.

"That's on'y a shillin'. Give's another."

A second was held out and taken.

"Now I wants another," said Pete, and upon this being given, he demanded a fourth, and then a fifth.

Pete was satisfied now, and he said with a low chuckle--

"If any o' these is bad 'uns, I shall go and tell."

"But they're not, they're all good," whispered Sam. "Now be off."

"Shee-arn't! I'm goin' to stop and see what you do. But you can't get in like that. The winders has all got noo fasteners. I could get in if I liked."

"How?" said Sam, in spite of himself.

"Think I'm goin' to tell you for this," said Pete. "You give me another, and I'll show you how to get in. I see you come in the wood and smoke over yonder."

"And you've been watching me ever since?"

"Course I have. What do you want to get?"

Sam made no answer, for he was trying to arrange his thoughts, and make out what was the best thing to do. Then all at once Pete broke out with--

"You ain't half a chap. I could soon get in there if I wanted."

"Could you? How?"

"I've been in the mill lots o' times," said Pete evasively, "'fore they took the stones out, and since old Dicky Brandon pulled the sails off."

"Tell me how you managed it," said Sam, after a glance round; for, mingled with his uneasy feeling about being betrayed by the great lad before him, he began to feel desperate, and as if he must succeed now he had gone so far. He was convinced in his own mind that the most likely place to find the documents he sought would be in his uncle's study, and to him the first floor of the old mill was that study. Tom had told him as much, and that the old walnut-wood bureau was the depository where their uncle kept his papers.

"People in the country are such idiots," he said to himself; "they never think of having strongrooms or iron safes. He has locked the papers up there as sure as a gun."

It was with a certainty of this being the case that he had come down, and now that there was nothing between him and the prize but a window and this spying lad, the position was irritating to a degree.

Sam thrust his hand into his pocket, where it came in contact with half-a-sovereign and some silver, and he began to think that of these he could perhaps after all make a key. The only question was how to begin.

Pete had uttered a low sniggering laugh on hearing Sam's last question, and now feeling that he must either act or give up; the latter repeated his inquiry.

"I used to have some bantams," replied the young scoundrel. "Bantams like wheat and barley."

"And you used to come and steal some for them?" said Sam sharply.

"Oh, did I? Who said anything about stealing? I didn't eat the barley; the bantams did."

"But you stole it all the same," said Sam, who felt now that he had a handle to take hold of.

"Oh, did I? So are you," snarled Pete. "You've come to steal something, or you wouldn't be here in the dark."

"Never you mind about that," said Sam quickly. "Look here; you tell me the way to get in, and I'll give you another shilling."

Pete thrust his dirty face close to Sam's.

"Give us hold then."

"No; you show me the way first."

"Shee-arn't! Give us the shillin' first."

"I don't believe you know a way."

"Oh, don't I! You give me the shillin', and you'll see."

Sam hesitated, but there was no time to lose. It seemed to be his only policy to make friends with this young ruffian, and he finally took a shilling out of his pocket, the action being grasped at once by the lad in spite of the darkness.

"No games," said Sam. "If I give you the shilling, will you tell me fairly?"

"Course I will."

"There; now tell me."

Pete took the shilling handed, made believe to spit upon it, and thrust it into his pocket.

"Winders is fastened up tight now."

"What, those up higher too?"

"Yes; all on 'em."

"Then how am I to get in?"

Pete laughed softly, and Sam grew angry.

"I thought so," he whispered. "You don't know."

"Oh, don't I just?" said Pete, with his sniggering laugh. "I said I'd tell yer, and I will."

"Quick then. How?"

"There's a kind o' door up atop as opens right over and lies on its back. It's got a bolt to it, but you can shove yer hand under when yer gets up inside them little palings and push it back. Then yer can open the door and get in."

"How do you know?" said Sam sharply.

"How do I know? 'Cause I've done it."

"But up there? How did you get up?"

"Ladder," said the lad laconically.

"What, is there a ladder here?"

"No," said Pete.

"Bah!" ejaculated Sam. "What's the good of telling me that, then?"

Pete chuckled now with satisfaction, as if he enjoyed his companion's trouble.

"I know where there's a ladder," he said.

"One we could get?"

"You couldn't. I could."

"Get it for me, then, there's a good fellow."

"Ha, ha! Oh, I say; arn't you getting jolly civil!"

"Hush!" whispered Sam excitedly. "Don't make that noise. Some one will hear."

"Yah! There's no one to hear! The old man's gone out, and old Mother Fidler's fast asleep, and snoring by this time."

"But there's he," whispered Sam.

"What, young Tom Blount? Yah! Not him: he won't come."

"Where's the ladder?" whispered Sam, in agony.

"Don't I tell yer, yer couldn't get it if yer did know!"

"Then will you get it for me?"

"Give's another shillin', and I will."

"Oh!" groaned Sam. "I've given you too much now."

"All right. I don't want the ladder. I arn't going to fetch that and carry it ever so far for nothin'."

"But is it long enough?"

"Yes; just reaches up to them railings outside the top door. Yer can't get in without."

"If I give you another shilling--the last, mind--will you fetch me a ladder?"

"Course I will."

"All right then; make haste."

"Give us the shillin' first."

"Then you won't fetch the ladder."

"Oh yes, I will--honour bright."

Sam unwillingly produced another shilling.

"There, that's the last I'm going to give you," he whispered. "Now, then, fetch the ladder quickly." _

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