CHAPTER XXII
THE OLD HAND
Half-an-hour later, when Vickers regained the top of the cliff and oncemore looked across the island towards the far-off point, the figure whichhe had previously seen making for it had turned back, and was ploddingsteadily across the coarse grass and rock-strewn moorland in his owndirection. Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of thesituation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to theconclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely pointfrom which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big,lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet himeyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefullylocked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that madeits captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of badgoods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met,and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during thenight. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshnessof the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which weresuggestive of a chastened spirit.
"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that wefind ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes uslong to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! Inplain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've beenlooking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is tostart as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keepa-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'llburn something of my own--I'm weary."
He dropped down on a convenient boulder of limestone, settled his bigframe comfortably, and producing a pipe and a tobacco pouch, proceeded tosmoke. Vickers himself took another boulder and looked inquisitively athis strange companion. He felt sure that Chatfield was up to something.
"You say 'we' now," he remarked suddenly. "Last night you said you didn'twant to have anything to do with us. We were to keep to ourselves, and--"
"Well, well, Mr. Vickers," broke in Chatfield. "One says things at onetime that one wouldn't say at another, you know. Facts is facts, sir, andProvidence has made us companions in distress. I've naught againstyou--nor against the girl--as for t'other young man, he's of ainterfering nature--but I forgive him--he's young. I don't bear no illwill--things being as they are. I've had time to reflect since lastnight--and I don't see no reason why Miss Greyle and me shouldn't come toterms--through you."
Vickers lighted his own pipe, and took some time over it.
"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, ofcourse. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, ofcourse, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal ownerof Scarhaven, and that--"
Chatfield waved his pipe.
"I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't knownaught of the sort. I tell you, Mr. Vickers, I do _not_ know that the manwhat we've known as the Squire of Scarhaven for a year gone by is _not_the rightful Squire--I do not! Fact, sir! But"--he lowered his voice, andhis sly eyes became slyer and craftier--"but I won't deny that duringthis last week or two I may have had my suspicions aroused, that therewas something wrong--I don't deny that, Mr. Vickers."
Vickers heard this with amazement. Young as he was, he had had variousdealings with Peter Chatfield, and he had an idea that he knew somethingof him, subtle old fellow though he was, and he believed that Chatfieldwas now speaking the truth. But, in that case, what of Copplestone'srevelation about the Falmouth and Bristol affair and the dead man? Hethought rapidly, and then determined to take a strong line.
"Chatfield!" he said. "You're trying to bluff me. It won't do. Thingsare known. I know 'em! I'll be candid with you--the time's come forthat. I'll tell you what I know--it'll all have to come out. You knowvery well that the real Marston Greyle's dead. You were with him when hedied. What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of MarkGrey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it?--you knowthat's all true!"
He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to seethat his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightlysuperior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctlyunimpressed.
"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That'sCopplestone's work, of course--I knew he was some sort of detective assoon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir CresswellOliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother,who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of thatLondon lawyer--Petherton. Aye--aye--but all the same, Mr. Vickers, itdon't alter matters--no-how!"
"Good heavens, man, what do you mean?" exclaimed Vickers, who wasbecoming more and more mystified. "Do you mean to tell me--come, come,Chatfield, I'm not a fool! Why--Copplestone has found it all out--there'sno need to keep it secret, now. You were with Marston Greyle when hedied--you registered his death as Marston Greyle--and--"
Chatfield laughed softly and gave his companion a swift glance out of onecorner of his right eye.
"And put another name on a bit of a tombstone--six months afterwards,what?" he said quietly. "Mr. Vickers, when you're as old as I am,you'll know that this here world is as full o' puzzles as yon sea'sfull o'fish!"
Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence afterthat. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfieldevidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow'scoolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almostcontemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling ofhelplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing apocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot ofspirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment toVickers. But Vickers shook his head.
"No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as hemight have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the endhe could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?"
"As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile.
"About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'mabout thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Ofcourse you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between youand me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and MissGreyle shouldn't come to terms?"
"Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicionsabout the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had themsuspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I sayis this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful ownerof Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help,too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a goodsixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings,books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do allthat, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way ofspeaking."
"I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'dbetter come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!"
Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box ofprovisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them,had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they werepresently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfieldunder outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They pausedby a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach ofthese two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave thema queer and a knowing look.
"Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect.Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn'tsee--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on goodterms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right,Chatfield?"
"Quite right, sir," assented the agent. He had been regarding the couplewho faced him benevolently and indulgently, and he now raised his hat tothem. "Servant, ma'am," he said with a bow to Audrey. "Servant, sir," hecontinued
, with another bow to Copplestone. "Ah--it's far better to be atpeace one with another than to let misunderstandings exist for ever. Mr.Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away,sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but betterfeelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me."
Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastilyepitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speechfailed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield werea new sort of entertainment.
"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked.
"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield whenhe says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. Mayseem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue."You--believe that!"
"I've said so," retorted Vickers.
"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone,sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life.He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoketruthful when he said that things isn't what they seem."
Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers.
"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what Itold you!"
"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?"
"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir."
"What terms?" asked Audrey. "To Mr. Chatfield's personal advantage,of course."
Chatfield, who was still the most unconcerned of the group, seatedhimself on the rocks and looked at his audience.
"I've said to Mr. Vickers here that if I help Miss Greyle to the estate,I ought to be rewarded--handsome," he said. "Mind you, I don't know thatI can, for as I say, I do not know, as a matter of strict fact, that thisman as we've called the Squire, isn't the Squire. But recent events--veryrecent events!--has made me suspicious that he isn't, and happen I can doa good bit--a very good bit--to turning him out. Now, if I help in thatthere work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent atScarhaven?"
"Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr.Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude whichsurprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will neverbe my agent!"
"Very good, ma'am--that's quite according to my expectations," saidChatfield, meekly. "I was always a misunderstood man. However, this hereproposition will perhaps be more welcome. It's always been understoodthat I was to have a retiring pension of five hundred pounds per annum.The family has always promised it--I've letters to prove it. Will MissGreyle stand to that if she comes in? I've been a faithful servant fornigh on to fifty years, Mr. Vickers, as all the neighbourhood is aware."
"If I come in, as you call it, you shall have your pension," said Audrey.Chatfield slowly felt in a capacious inner pocket and produced a largenotebook and a fountain pen. He passed them to Vickers.
"We'll have that there in writing, signed and witnessed," he said. "Put,if you please, Mr. Vickers, 'I agree that if I come into the Scarhavenestate, Peter Chatfield shall at once be pensioned off with five hundredpounds a year, to be paid quarterly. Same to be properly assured to himfor his life.' And then if Miss Greyle'll sign that document, and yougentlemen'll witness it, I shall consider that henceforth I'm in MissGreyle's service. And," he added, with a significant glance all round, "Ishall be a deal more use as a friend nor what I should be as what youmight term an enemy--Mr. Vickers knows that."
Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which wasthat the paper was duly signed, Witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield'spocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction.
"All right," he said. "Now then, ma'am, and gentlemen, the next thing isto get away out o' this, and get on the track of them as put us here.We'd better start a big fire out o' this dry stuff--"
"But what about these revelations you were going to make?" said Vickers."I understood you were to tell us--"
"Sir," replied Chatfield, "I'll tell and I'll reveal in due course, andin good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearesttelegraph office, and we'll have some events, right smart. Let meattract attention. I've sailed in these seas before. There's steamersgoes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent--we must get hold of one. Atelegraph office!--that's what I want. I'm a-going to set up ablaze--and I'll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on abundle o' telegraph forms!"
He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf ofrock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. Thethree young people exchanged glances.
"What's this new mystery?" asked Audrey.
"All bluff!--some deep game of his own," growled Copplestone. "He's themost consummate old liar I ever--"
"You're wrong this time, old chap!" interrupted Vickers. "He's a bad'un--but he's on our side now--I'm convinced. It is a game he's playing,and a deep one, and I don't know what it is, but it's for ourbenefit--Chatfield's simply transferred his interest and influence tous--that's all. For his own purposes, of course. And"--he suddenlypaused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. "Chatfield!" hecalled quietly. "You needn't light any fire. Here's a steamer!"