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Till the Clock Stops, a fiction by John Joy Bell |
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Chapter 13 |
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_ CHAPTER XIII By ten o'clock next morning Caw, who had risen at five, had Grey House in a fair state of comfort for the reception of its new master, if not its new owner. The producers of warmth and electricity were at work again; the elderly housekeeper, who in Christopher's time had never been upstairs, was recalled from a near village just when she was beginning to wonder whether, after all, perfect happiness was included in retirement with an ample annuity, in the garden a man was already reducing the more apparent ravages of the gale. Caw himself quietly repaired the moderate damage done by the thief of the Green Box. Following the instructions written by his late master, he had sent a telegram to the Glasgow lawyer. He was in the study dusting the thick glass protecting the clock when, about ten thirty, Alan arrived via the passage. "An odd place for a clock," the young man remarked. "I had a look at it last night. But why 'dangerous,' and what's that green stuff?" "Mr. Craig intended that the clock should not be interfered with before it stopped--nearly a year hence, sir. I understand the liquid is something stronger than water, but whether explosive or poisonous, I could not say, sir." "Curious notion!" Alan pointed to the pendulum flashing gloriously in the sunlight now breaking through the racing clouds. "Are they diamonds?" "Yes, sir. Worth, I have heard, about two thousand pounds." "Then, of course, they would account for the precautions." "Very likely, sir. Only I have a feeling that this clock has a meaning which we shall not learn until it stops. The maker constructed it in a locked room in this house, of which my master had the key, and I think my master knew even more about it than Monsoor Guidet did. Is the temperature here agreeable to you, sir?" "A trifle warm, don't you think?" "It shall be regulated to suit you, sir. Mr. Craig was sensitive to a degree, one way or the other." Alan turned abruptly from the clock which, somehow, he was finding fascinating. "Well, now, Caw," he said, dropping into an easy chair by the fire, "hadn't you better begin to explain things?" "At once, if you wish it, sir. But I'm hoping that Mr. Craig's lawyer from Glasgow, Mr. Harvie, will be here at noon, and as he may have fuller information than I can give, I was wondering if you would not care to hear him first. Indeed, Mr. Alan, I think it would be worth your while to wait, I could tell you a good deal, but my master did not tell me everything, though I have sometimes thought he meant to tell me more--" "Very well, Caw. I'll ask only one question for the present. Did my uncle see anything of Mr. Bullard within the last few months of his life?" Caw let fall the duster and recovered it before he answered: "Yes, sir. On the afternoon of the day of his death Mr. Bullard and Mr. Lancaster sat in this room with him." "Mr. Lancaster, too!" "Yes, sir." "Thanks; that will do for the present. Now I have a letter to write. By the bye, do you remember my friend, Mr. France, being here once? I am going to send for him." "I remember Mr. France very well indeed, sir, and I will do my best to make him comfortable. I think you will find everything here," Caw moved the chair at the desk. Alan got up, then hesitated. "Do you know, Caw, I can hardly bring myself to take possession in this cool fashion right away." "My master would have wished for nothing better. You will remember, sir, that all has been yours for the last eighteen months." Caw made the stiff little bow that betokened retiral. "A moment. Caw," said the young man. "I take it that you would have done anything for my uncle." "That is so," was the quiet reply, "and, if I may say so, Mr. Alan, I am here to do anything for you." He was gone, leaving Alan perplexed and not a little touched, for he could not doubt the man's sincerity. Presently he sat down and wrote to Teddy France, disguising his writing as much as possible. "My dear Teddy: The visit of Mr. Harvie, the lawyer, who arrived at noon, meant little but disappointment for Alan. After a few polite words of congratulation, the lawyer dived into business, explaining Alan's position as the result of his uncle's deed of gift, and reciting a short list of securities mixed up with money figures. "All very simple and satisfactory so far as it goes, Mr. Craig," he said, "and, of course, I am always at your service should you think I can be of the slightest help. Your uncle's will provided only for a legacy and an annuity to the male and female servants, also a thousand pounds to Dr. Handyside, the residue, about four thousand pounds, falling to yourself. My duty for the present ends with the delivery of this"--he handed an envelope to Alan--"though my responsibilities do not cease until the clock stops." "I wish you would explain the clock, Mr. Harvie." Mr. Harvie wagged his head. "My knowledge concerning the clock is confined to written instructions of my late client, whereby I shall be present when it stops, but my duties then will depend on circumstances. The significance of the clock itself I do not yet comprehend. All I know is that the clock will run a year from the date of my client's death, and that, at least twenty-four hours prior to the stoppage, I shall be warned and informed of the hour at which I must be present." He paused to purse his lips and continued: "I do not think you will resent my remarking, Mr. Craig, that for as sane a business man as ever I met, your uncle had some of the oddest ideas--which, nevertheless, you and I are bound to respect. Possibly a chat with Mr. Caw may dispel some of the fog you have stepped into on your otherwise fortunate and happy return home. I feel that Mr. Caw knows a great deal more than I, but in this case, at any rate"--Mr. Harvie permitted himself to smile--"what I do not know is none of my business." "You can assure me that absolutely everything in this house belongs to me?" said Alan after a short silence. "You know of nothing which my uncle intended to make over to friends?" "Nothing whatever. Mr. Craig was absolutely clear on that point when I drew up the Deed of Gift. Still, as I have said, in any new difficulty I am at your service. I liked your uncle, Mr. Craig. I once mentioned a sad case of unmerited poverty to him, and his generosity astonished, nay, shamed me. You have a good man's place to fill." Mr. Harvie stayed to lunch--Caw performed wonders in the circumstances--and caught the two o'clock steamer. As soon as he was gone, Alan opened the envelope. If he had looked for revelations within, he was bound to be once more disappointed. The enclosure consisted simply of a letter, and not a lengthy one at that. "GREY HOUSE, * * * * * After a little while Alan rang for Caw. The servant's eyes held a glimmer of anticipation induced by the lawyer's visit. Surely Mr. Harvie had been able to divulge something that would render his coming task a little easier, for Caw had still to tell of the Green Box and at the same time conceal the fact that Christopher Craig had died at bitter enmity with his two old friends--or at all events, the grounds of that enmity. As though Christopher had wished to lay particular stress on his desire for such concealment, Caw had found among his written instructions the following words: "At all costs, my nephew is to be spared the tragedy of his parents' ruin." At Alan's first remark the glimmer went out. "No, Caw, I'm no wiser than I was this morning. Mr. Harvie knows nothing except that he is to be present when the clock stops, and a letter written to me by my uncle, which he gave me, leaves me as much in the dark as ever. My uncle's letter says, however, that I am to trust you, and that you know more than any one." Caw made a slight inclination. "May I ask if the letter makes mention of Dr. Handyside and Miss Handyside, sir?" "I am to trust them also," Alan replied, with a smile, "as well as Mr. Harvie." "Thank you, sir. As you have seen, sir, I have ventured to trust Dr. Handyside and Miss Handyside a bit of my own; in fact I was forced into so doing; and, though I had my master's word for it, if necessary, I am glad to hear it again from you, sir. As for Mr. Harvie, I take leave to hope we shall not require to trust him." "Why on earth--?" "Well, sir, he's a lawyer--" "Good lord, Caw! What are you driving at? My uncle trusted him, and his letter--" "If you'll excuse me, sir, you have just been telling me that Mr. Harvie knows next to nothing. Mr. Harvie, I beg to say, is a very nice gentleman, and as honest as any lawyer need hope for to be; but a lawyer is the last sort of human being we want to have in this business, sir." "I'm afraid I don't quite grasp--" began Alan, amused by the other's earnestness. "Well, sir, did you ever go to a lawyer to ask a question?" "I can't say I have, that I remember." "Then, sir, I have. I once asked a lawyer one question, and before he could, or would, answer it, sir, he asked me fifty, and then his answer was rot--beg pardon, sir--unsatisfactory. But what I mean is just this, sir. With all due deference to Mr. Harvie, we don't want outsiders asking questions. My master himself would have been against it, and I'm hoping you will understand why before very long, sir." Alan sat up. "Before we go any further," he said, "will you tell me what you were looking for last night when you opened a drawer in that writing-table and--well, go ahead." Caw took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "A green box, sir, that had been there a few hours earlier." "The contents?" "Diamonds, sir." "What?" "Diamonds, sir." "I didn't know there were diamonds--except in that pendulum." The other gave a faint sigh. "Were those in the box of any great value?" Caw moistened his lips. "Six hundred thousand pounds--" "Oh, nonsense!" "My master's words, sir." "Then--why should they have been left lying there?" "My master's orders, sir." Alan opened his mouth, but found no speech. Said Caw: "You find it difficult to believe, sir, but there are other things just as difficult. For instance, I was forbidden to use any violence to prevent the box being taken away--that is, taken away by certain parties. A horrid position for me, sir." "Yes," assented Alan, absently. Presently he went on: "Don't imagine that I doubt anything you have said, Caw--except that the diamonds, whose value there must surely be some extraordinary mistake about, were in the box." "But, Mr. Alan, I can swear they were! It was I who closed and put the box in the drawer for the last time, at my master's request. He had been admiring them, as he often did--" "Who were the parties who were to be allowed to take the box?" After a moment's hesitation,--"Mr. Bullard, sir, and Mr. Lancaster. They were the only persons besides myself who knew about the diamonds. I should tell you that my master showed them the diamonds that afternoon." "Good God!" said Alan under his breath. Aloud: "Are you telling me that you suspect those two gentlemen of st--taking the box?" "They came here late on the night after my master's death, with that object, sir." "But the box was taken last night." "I can't swear that it was they who were here last night, but I can swear they would have had the box on the night I have named, sir, but for Miss Handyside." "Miss Handyside! ... Sit down, man, and tell your story. I'll try not to interrupt." "Thank you, sir." Caw drew a chair from the wall; for once he was glad to be seated. He told his story in a crisp, straightforward fashion, avoiding side issues, and his listener heard him out in silence. There was a pause before the latter spoke. "You've given me something to think about, Caw," he said gravely. "Meantime I'll ask only three questions. Have you any doubt that the box and its contents belonged entirely to my uncle?" "None at all, sir. I remember his getting the box made--twelve years ago, I should say. Also, I knew he had made a great deal of money and was putting it into diamonds." "He hadn't a duplicate box?" "If he had, sir, I should have seen it. For the last two years of his life, I had to look after everything for him, even open his safe." "I see. Now tell me: Did my uncle and Messrs. Bullard and Lancaster part on good terms that afternoon?" Caw could have smiled with relief at the form in which the enquiry was put. "Why, sir," he said, with ill-suppressed eagerness, "they shook hands, and my master bade them a kind farewell. Mr. Lancaster was visibly affected." "And they were back the next night!" "Six hundred thousand pounds is a lot of money, sir." Alan got up, strode to the window, and looked out for a minute's space. "What would you say, Caw," he asked, turning abruptly, "if I told you that for the last eighteen months I have regarded Mr. Bullard and Mr. Lancaster as my best friends?" The servant, who had risen also, replied respectfully: "I would say I was very sorry, sir." "Indeed!--And if I told you that they had helped me with a large sum of money--what then?" "I should take the liberty, sir, of wondering what you gave them for it." "Good Heavens!" the young man exclaimed, "the thing is impossible!" Controlling himself--"Thanks, Caw, I'll not trouble you more for the present." "Very good, sir. When will you take tea?" "I'm taking tea with Dr. Handyside." "Very good, sir. I had better show you how the door works from this side." * * * * * It was a much worried young man whom Caw presently left alone. Until last night, when he had looked at Marjorie Handyside's note, it had never occurred to him to connect the crime in the Arctic wastes with the will he had signed in the Aasvogel Syndicate office, on that fine spring morning, eighteen months ago. His only suspicion, which in nine thoughts out of ten he had almost rejected for its absurdity, was against the man Garnet whose place he had filled in the Expedition. Garnet, who was an author and a vile-tempered fellow even in good health, had gone half crazy because the Expedition was not postponed for a year on his account. He had cursed Alan as a scheming interloper, and so forth, and had actually expressed the wish that he might leave his bones "up there." And last night, the girl's note had given his mind nothing more than a nasty jar. Bullard?--why, that idea, he had thought, was still more absurd than the other! But now what was he to believe? Caw's revelation seemed to leave him no choice. And yet the thing appeared preposterous. Bullard and Lancaster were rich men, and while his acquaintance with the former had been comparatively slight, memories of the latter's frequent kindnesses and hospitality had warmed his heart many a time during his exile in the Arctic. Lancaster a trafficker in murder?--Lancaster the delicate, gentle father of the girl who had promised to wait for him? No, by Heaven, he would not believe it! As for Bullard-- The sinking sun shot a ray against the clock, and the glitter of diamonds roused him from his brooding. It was the Handysides' tea hour. He must try to get a quiet word with his hostess. He had met her at breakfast, but the doctor had been present. There were several things he wanted to say--must say--to her. She was brave--much braver than he had given her credit for a few hours ago--as well as bonny. As he descended to the passage he thought of how she had outwitted Bullard. Fortune was with him; he found her alone in the drawing-room. "I always give father ten minutes grace when he's cleaning his car, and it's pretty messy after last night, while he has got to be careful with his foot," she explained. "By the way, Mr. Craig, I have to apologise for my curiosity of last night, but I'm not used to stories like yours." "My apology is about a more serious matter," he replied. "I've just been hearing from Caw of how you rescued the Green Box at the first attempt to remove it. It was the pluckiest thing I ever heard of, and I'm under a tremendous obligation to you." "Oh, please don't!" she said, with a laugh and a blush. "You must understand that I hadn't a pistol that night. The pistol was an awful failure, wasn't it? You weren't a bit afraid--for yourself, anyway--and I was terrified. I'd have been far more effective if I'd just opened the door an inch and called 'boo!'" "I fancy that would have finished me, Miss Handyside! But do you want to learn to shoot? If so, and you'd allow me, I'd give you a lesson or two, with pleasure." "Would you?--But you mustn't tell father. Luckily he didn't notice the horrid thing last night. Now, I think I'd better give him a hail to come to tea." "One moment, please," said Allan. "Would you mind telling me why you wrote down that name last night?" She became grave at once. "Was it the wrong one, Mr. Craig?" "I can only hope so. But what made you think it a possible one? Had you ever seen the man before that night?" "No." She paused, then said slowly: "Mr. Craig, if he wanted your uncle's diamonds that night, it is likely that he wanted them long before then, and it must have occurred to him that your life stood in his way of ever getting them as a gift or legacy." She halted, and then asked: "Well?" "This is for your ears alone, Miss Handyside," he said on an impulse. "When I wanted very much to go to the Arctic and could not find the necessary money, Mr. Bullard and--and another man advanced it, and I made a will in their favour." "Oh, how horrible!" "And yet all that proves nothing with regard to the man Flitch." "No more does this," she quickly rejoined. "But when I saw that Bullard man's face as he laid the Green Box on the table, I felt that there was a being who would stick at nothing. I'll never forget his expression. It was as if the humanness had fallen from a face. It was--devilish.... That was what made me write down his name last night." She held up her hand. "Hush!" Dr. Handyside hobbled in, looking far from happy. "Has Caw told you how he came to be absent from his charge last night, Mr. Craig?" he asked. "In the same circumstances I'd have been absent myself," said Alan. Marjorie gave him a grateful glance. "Poor father feels as if he owed you over half a million," she said. The guest laughed. "Well, he can easily feel that he has paid the debt--by taking the Green Box as seriously as I do!" "In other words as a joke?" said Handyside sadly. "That's very generous of you, Alan, if I may say so,--to quote Caw--but the Green Box is too hard and cold a fact to jest about." "Then let us ignore it, if you please. My uncle's letter, which his lawyer handed me to-day, requests me to let things take their course, if at all possible, until the Clock stops; and that's what I'm going to do so far, at least, as that blessed Green Box is concerned. As a matter of fact, the Clock interests me far more than the box." "Why?" said Marjorie. "I don't know, but there it is!" "Have you any hope," asked Handyside, "that there is any chance of recovering the box or, rather, its contents? Forgive my harping on the subject?" "No," answered Alan, thinking of Doris Lancaster. "And pray believe me, doctor, when I say that I care as little as I hope." For which saying Marjorie could have kissed him. _ |
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