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Till the Clock Stops, a fiction by John Joy Bell |
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Chapter 20 |
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_ CHAPTER XX Morning brought a telegram from Monsieur Guidet, and a couple of hours later the little Frenchman arrived at Grey House in a sorry state of apprehension. The clock!--impossible that he could have failed in any way!--there must have been gross and deliberate ill-usage! ... and many more words to the same effect. When he stopped for breath Caw assured him that there was nothing wrong with the clock and mentioned why and by whom the summons had been sent him. Whereupon Monsieur went frantic. "Stop the clock--nevaire!--what crime to think of!--the clock must not stop till he stop himself!" "All right, Monsoor, you can explain all that to Mr. Alan Craig. The clock, like everything else here, belongs to him now,--and I happen to have a headache this morning." "Hah! you have rejoice at the return of the young Mr. Craik," said Guidet, controlling himself and sympathetically considering Caw's red eyes and husky voice. "Good!--but you look upon the wine when he was wheesky, and there is not so much jolly good fellow in the morning--eh, Mr. Caw?" "Oh, yes, we've been doing a lot of rejoicing--I don't think," returned Caw with weary good humour. Thanks to Handyside's attentions he was not much the worse of the spray which had been more efficacious than virulent. Within half an hour he had managed to attract the attention of the house-keeper who had given the alarm. What had puzzled every one concerned was that the attempt should have ended as it had begun with the assault on the servant. Nothing had been touched. "Must have taken fright," was the only conclusion arrived at after a thorough search and rather a discursive consultation. Caw ushered the clock-maker into the study. Handyside and Marjorie were present by invitation. "You had better wait, Caw," said Alan. "Be seated, Monsieur Guidet. Many thanks for coming so promptly." Monsieur bowed solemnly to each person, looked for a moment as if he were going to bow to his masterpiece also, and took the chair preferred by Caw. "It was my dutiful pleasure to come with speed, Mr. Craik, for sake of your high respectable uncle, and I am at his service, I hope, when I am at yours." Alan gave the embarrassed nod of the average Briton listening to an ordinary observation elegantly expressed. "Very good of you, I'm sure. Well, I suppose Caw has told you why we have troubled you--simply to have your opinion as to stopping the clock now, instead of allowing it to go on for nearly a year." Obvious was the effort with which Monsieur Guidet restrained his feelings while he enquired whether the clock had been annoying anybody. "By no means," Alan answered, wondering how much the man knew. "But my friends and I have come to the conclusion that certain annoyances will not stop until the clock does. I hesitate to ask you questions, Monsieur Guidet--" "I beg that you will not do so, Mr. Craik. I have leetle knowledge, but it is discreet and confiding. But in one thing I am sure: your reverent" (possibly he meant "revered") "uncle did not mean the clock to bring annoyance to you and your friends. No, sir!" "In that case, I should imagine he would have wished it to stop as soon as possible. Caw assures me that the main object in making the clock to go for a whole year was to allow time for my return before certain wishes of my uncle took effect. You take my meaning?" "I do, sir; and though the late Mr. Craik did not remark it so to me, I can believe such a thing was in his brains at the time. But to stop the clock before he has finished his course--that is another story, sir!" Teddy put in a word. "Dangerous, Monsieur?" "Why do you ask such a question, sir?" "My friend probably refers to the notice and to the green fluid," said Alan. "Monsieur," cried Marjorie, "may I guess what the danger is?" "Hush, Marjorie!" muttered her father. Monsieur gave her a beautiful smile and a charming bow. "Mademoiselle," he said sweetly, "is welcome to one hundred thousand guesses." With that there fell a silence. It was broken by Caw. "If I may say so, Monsoor seems to have forgotten that the clock is the property of Mr. Alan Craig, and therefore--" "Mr. Caw," said Guidet quickly, "because I remember that, I say what I say; I refuse what I refuse." "Come, Monsieur," said Alan, "it is an open secret that that clock is more than a time-keeper." "Myself would almost suspect so much." He said it so quaintly that a smile went round. Caw alone preserved a stolid expression. "Monsoor," he said very quietly, "I respectfully ask the lady and the gentleman here present to bear witness to a promise which I am ready to put in writing. ... If I am alive when that clock stops, about a year hence, I will pay you, Monsoor, a thousand pounds." Guidet sprang up and sat down again. He appealed to Alan. "What does he mean, Mr. Craik?" "He means," Alan answered, "that whatever possible danger there may be in stopping the clock, there is very probable danger in letting it go on. Is that it, Caw?" "Yes, Mr. Alan, and I hope you will believe that my remark was not entirely selfish." "The trouble, Monsieur," added Alan, "is that like yourself I cannot answer questions." "One, if you please, Mr. Craik. Is the danger for you also?" Alan smiled. "I'm not worrying much--" Marjorie interposed. "Yes, yes, Monsieur!" she exclaimed, and hastily lowered a flushed face. The Frenchman was plainly distressed. "This," he said at last, "was not expected. I perceive that you have enemies, that my esteemed patron had enemies also. Not so bad did I understand it to be. I imagined Mr. Christopher Craik was humourist as well as clever man--" "So he was," the host interrupted; "but the ball he set rolling is now doing so more violently than I can believe he intended. Still, if stopping the clock before its time is likely to stultify his memory in any way--why then, Monsieur, I, for one, will do my best to keep it going. What do you say, Caw?" "If that is how you feel, sir, then I say, 'long live the clock!'" "Hear, hear!" murmured Teddy. "Caw," cried Miss Handyside, "you're simply splendid!" Caw had not blushed so warmly for many years. Guidet, pale and perturbed, had taken a little book from his pocket and opened it at a page of tiny figures close-packed. Now he rose. "If I may go to a quiet place for one half-hour, I--I will see if anything can be done, Mr. Craik, but I promise nothings." "See that Monsieur Guidet has quietness and some refreshment," said Alan to the servant, and the two left the room. "Let's go for a walk," remarked Teddy. "This clock business is getting on my nerves. I shall never again wear socks with--" "But I do think," said Marjorie hopefully, "the funny little man means to do something." Dr. Handyside got up and strolled over to the clock. "Monsieur Guidet," he observed, "has evidently the sensibilities of an artist as well as the ordinary feelings of humanity. Caw has appealed to the latter. If I were you, Alan, I should appeal to the former by suggesting to Guidet the probability of an attack on the clock itself." On the way out-of-doors, Alan looked into the room where the Frenchman sat staring at a diagram roughly drawn on notepaper. He wagged his head drearily. "I fear I can do nothings," he sighed. "Perhaps I ought to mention, Monsieur," Alan said, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "that my enemies are just as likely to attack the clock as my person--more likely, it may be." "Hah!" Guidet bounded on his seat. "My clock!--They dare to attack him!--" "Possibly with explosives--" "Enough! Pray leave me, Mr. Craik. I--I may yet find a way. Give me a whole hour." During the walk up the loch Teddy actually forgot the clock. Alan and Marjorie were in front, and he noted his friend's bearing towards the girl with a pained wonder, and thought of Doris. On returning to the house they found Monsieur waiting for them. He held a sheaf of papers covered with queer drawings and calculations. And he hung his head. "Mr. Craik," he said sadly, "I have struggle, but it is no use. I see an hour, thirteen days after to-day, when perhaps I might stop him without disaster--but only perhaps--only perhaps. And so I dare not, will not risk. One leetle, tiny mistake of a second, and"--he made an expressive gesture--"all is lost." The silence of dismay was broken by Handyside. "But bless my soul, Monsieur Guidet, if you stop him at the wrong time, you can easily set him going again." "Not so! He stop once, he stop for ever." "But," cried Marjorie excitedly, "although you stop him--the clock, I mean--it will still be there; it won't fly away." The little man regarded her for a moment. "Mademoiselle," he said and bowed, "he will be done--finished--dead. I will say no more." He turned to Alan. "Mr. Craik, I am sorry to be not obliging to you. Yes; and I confess I am nearly more sorry for myself. But I hope the time comes when you will understand and excuse. The good God preserve you and him--and Mr. Caw--from enemies." He bowed all round. "Adieu." And so ended the little company's great expectations. "I suppose there's nothing for it but to hang on," said Alan with a laugh, "and get used to the situation. I think you, Teddy, had better chuck your berth in London, live here, and help me to write that book on my Eskimo experiences." "Very pleased," replied Teddy, "if you don't mind my having the jumps once a while." "Oh, do come and stay with Mr. Craig," said Marjorie in her impulsive fashion, which annoyed Teddy chiefly because he was forced to confess it charming. He disapproved of the proprietary interest she seemed to take in his friend, and yet had circumstances been a little different, how he would have welcomed it! "A very good notion," observed Handyside. "The clock can't have too many guardians, and I don't imagine you would care to bring in strangers." "Not to be thought of," replied Alan. "But I'm sorry for Caw. Teddy and I must leave him alone for a few days. We're catching the two o'clock steamer. Things to see about in Glasgow, and on to London in the morning. I'm hoping the big dog may turn up to-day." Marjorie gave her father a surreptitious nudge. "I don't like intruding my services," said the doctor, "but I should be very glad to spend the nights here during your absence--" "Me, too," said Marjorie. "Be quiet, infant! Just be candid, Alan." "I'd be jolly glad to think of Caw having your support, doctor," the young man heartily answered, "but it would be accepting too much. I have no right to bring you into my troubles--" "Then that's settled," said Handyside. "I hope you don't mind my saying it, but I've felt a new man since I learned that the stones were false. Marjorie and I must be going now, and there's only one thing I want to be sure of before we part." "What is that, doctor?" "I want to be sure that the Green Box is in its place." They all laughed. "That's easy!" Alan opened the drawer. "Behold!--just where it was last night." Marjorie's hand darted downward. "What key is this?" she cried, holding it up. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I could swear that wasn't there last night." "Might have been lying in the shadow," Teddy suggested. "It's a new key." "Oh, do try it in the box!" "I think we may do that much." Alan lifted the box to the table. "Try it yourself, Miss Handyside." "It fits!--it turns! Oh, Mr. Craig, just one little peep inside!" "Against the rules," said Teddy, burning with curiosity. "What rules?" "We decided that it would be against my uncle's wishes to open the box before the clock stopped," Alan said reluctantly. Then brightly--"But, I say! we didn't take into account the fact that it had been already opened, though not by us--which alters the position considerably. Don't you agree, Teddy?" "Oh, confound the thing, I'm dying to see inside, and yet--" "I rather think--" began the doctor. "Oh, don't think, father!" said Marjorie, her fingers on the edge of the lid. She looked to Alan. "May I?" A tap, and Caw came in with a telegram for Alan. "Excuse me," the host said, and opened it. Caw caught sight of the key in the box, forgot his manners, and leapt forward, laying his hand on the lid. And Alan went white as death. "Turn the key, Caw," he said hoarsely, "and take it away." Partially recovering himself, he apologised to the girl. "It was too rude of me, but something reminded me that I should be betraying a trust by opening the box now. Please try to forgive me." She was very kind about it, for there was no mistaking his distress. Presently she and the doctor departed. Alan dropped into a chair and handed the message to the wondering Teddy. "Read it aloud. Listen Caw." Teddy read:-- "Handed in at Fenchurch Street, 11:20 a. m. Alan Craig, Grey House, Loch Long. For life's sake don't ever try to open Green Box--Friend." _ |
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