CHAPTER XXIX. THE ATTIC
It was evident that more had occurred to make Mrs. Dawson afraid thatshe would, or perhaps could, say.
"Wait here," Rupert said to her. "Don't stir." The command seemedsuperfluous, for she had not at that moment the appearance of stillpossessing the power to move. Without speaking again, Rupert left theroom and went quickly to the foot of the narrow stairs that led to theattics above.
He listened, crouching there, and heard nothing, and a cold fear came tohim that perhaps Deede Dawson had done up above what he wished to do andthen effected his escape while he himself had been lingering in Ella'sroom.
Adopting his plan of a rapid rush to disconcert the aim of any one whomight be about to fire at him, he made a swift dash up the stairs and onthe topmost one crouched down again and waited.
But still nothing happened, all was very quiet, and the door of oneattic, the one which had been assigned to him as a bed-chamber, was wideopen so that he could see into it and see that it was unoccupied.
But the doors of both the others were closed, and as he looked he madeout in the gloom, for this landing by the attic was very badly-lightedby a small and awkwardly-placed skylight, a scattered dozen or so ofhairpins, and a tortoiseshell comb such as he had seen sometimes inElla's hair, lying on the floor near the door of the larger of the twoattics, the one in which he remembered well he had found Deede Dawson ona certain night busy measuring and examining an empty packing-case.
With one quick rush he crossed the landing and flung himself at thedoor.
It opened at once, for it was not locked, and within he saw DeedeDawson, screw-driver in his hand, standing behind a large packing-case,the lid of which he had apparently that minute finished fastening down.
He looked up as Rupert entered thus precipitately, and he showed no signof surprise or alarm.
"You're back early," he said. "Something gone wrong?"
"What are you doing? What's in there?" Rupert asked, looking at thepacking-case, his mouth and lips so suddenly dry he found it difficultto speak at all.
Deede Dawson began to laugh, a low and dreadful laughter that had in itno trace of merriment at all, but only of mockery and malice.
It was such laughter as a devil from the nethermost pit might give ventto when he saw at last a good man yield to long temptation.
"What's in there?" Rupert said again, pointing to the packing-case, andit was as though his soul swooned within him for fear of what the answermight be.
"What do the children say?" Deede Dawson returned with his terriblesmile. "I'll give you three guesses, isn't it? See if you can guess inthree tries."
"What's in there?" Rupert asked the third time, and Deede Dawson laiddown the screw-driver with which he had just driven home the last screw.
"Oh, see for yourself, if you want to," he said. "But you ought to know.You know what was in the other case I sent away from here, the one I gotElla to take in the car for me? I want you to take this one away now,the sooner it's away the better."
"That's it, is it?" Rupert muttered.
He no longer doubted, and for a moment all things swam together beforehim and he felt dizzy and a little sick, and so weak he staggered andnearly fell, but recovered himself in time.
The sensation passed and he saw Deede Dawson as it were a long way off,and between them the packing-case, huge, monstrous, and evil, like athing of dread from some other world. Violent shudderings swept thoughhim one after the other, and he was aware that Deede Dawson was speakingagain.
"What did you say?" he asked vacantly, when the other paused.
"You look ill," Deede Dawson answered. "Anything wrong? Why have youcome back so soon? Have you failed?"
Rupert passed his hand before his eyes to clear away the mist that hungthere and that hampered his sight.
He perceived that Deede Dawson held his right hand in the pocket of hiscoat, grasping something that bulged out curiously.
He divined that it was a pistol, and that Deede Dawson was ready toshoot at any moment, but that he wished very greatly to know first ofall what had happened and why Rupert had returned so soon and whetherthere was immediate necessity for flight or not.
That he was uneasy was certain, for his cold eyes showed a hesitationand a doubt such as Rupert had never seen in them before.
"I'll tell you what's happened," Rupert heard himself saying hoarsely."If you'll tell me what's in there."
"A bargain, eh?" Deede Dawson said. "It's easy enough. You can look foryourself if you unscrew the lid, but then, after all, why should we takeall that trouble?"
As he spoke his pistol showed in his hand, and at once the heavy glassinkpot Rupert had held all this time flew straight and true, and withtremendous force, at Deede Dawson's head.
He avoided it only by the extreme rapidity with which he dropped behindthe packing-case, and it flew over his head and crashed against thecentre panel of a big wardrobe that stood in one corner of the room,splitting the panel it struck from top to bottom.
Following it, Rupert hurled himself forward with one great spring, butagile as a cat that leaps away from the mastiff's teeth, Deede Dawsonslipped from his grasp to the other side of the room. In doing so heknocked his arm against the corner of the packing-case, so that hisrevolver fell to the ground.
With a shout Rupert stooped and seized it, and straightened himselfto see that Deede Dawson had already another revolver in his hand--asecond one that he had drawn from an inner pocket.
They remained very still, watching each other intently, neither eagerto fire, since both wished first to make the other speak. For Rupertdesired very greatly that Deede Dawson should tell him where Ella was,and Deede Dawson needed that Rupert should explain what had gone wrong,and how imminent and great was the danger that therefore most likelythreatened him.
Each knew, too, that the slightest movement he made would set the othershooting, and each realized that in that close and narrow space anyexchange of shots must almost of necessity mean the death of both, sinceboth were cool and deadly marksmen, well accustomed to the use of therevolver.
Deede Dawson was the first to speak.
"Well, what next?" he said. "If that inkpot of yours had hit me it wouldpretty well have knocked my brains out, and if I hadn't hit my elbowagainst the corner of the packing-case I would have had you shot throughwith holes like a sieve by now. So far the score's even. Let's chat abit, and see if we can't come to some arrangement. Look, I'll show Itrust you."
As he spoke he laid down, much to Rupert's surprise, and to his equalsuspicion, his revolver on the top of a moth-eaten roll of old carpetthat leaned against the wall near where he was standing.
"You see, I trust you," he said once more.
"Take your pistol up again," answered Rupert grimly. "I do not trustyou."
"Ah, that's a pity." Deede Dawson smiled, making no effort to do as theother said. "You see, we are both good shots, and if we start blazingaway at each other up here we shall both be leaking pretty badly beforelong. That's a prospect that has no attraction for me; I don't knowif it has for you. But there are things I can tell you that might beinteresting, and things you can tell me I want to know. Why not exchangea little information, and then separate calmly, rather than indulge inpistol practice that can only mean the death of us both? For if yourfirst bullet goes through my brain I swear my first will be in yourheart."
"Likely enough," agreed Rupert, "but worth while perhaps."
"Oh, that's fanaticism," Deede Dawson answered. "Flattering perhaps tome, but not quite reasonable, eh?"
"There's only one thing I want to know from you," Rupert said slowly.
"Then why not ask it, why not agree to the little arrangement I suggest,eh? Eh, Rupert Dunsmore?"
"You know me, then?"
"Oh, long enough."
"Where is Ella?"
Deede Dawson laughed again.
"That's a thing I know and you don't," he said. "Well, she's safe awayin London by this time."
&
nbsp; "That's a lie, for her mother's here still," answered Rupert, eventhough his heart leapt merely to hear the words.
"Unbelieving Thomas," smiled the other. "Well, then, she is whereshe is, and that you can find out for yourself. But I'll make anothersuggestion. We are both good shots, and if we start to fire we shallkill each other. I am certain of killing you, but I shan't escapemyself. Well, then, why not toss for it? Equal chances for both, andcertain safety for one. Will you toss me, the one who loses to give uphis pistol to the other?"
"It seems to me a good idea," Deede Dawson argued. "Here we are watchingeach other like cats, and knowing that the least movement of either willstart the other off, and both of us pulling trigger as hard as we can.My idea would mean a chance for one. Well, let's try another way; thebest shot to win. You don't trust me, but I will you."
Leaving his pistol lying where he had put it down, he crossed the attic,and with a pencil he took from his pocket drew a circle on the panel ofthe wardrobe door that Rupert had split with the inkpot he had thrown.
In the centre of the circle he marked a dot, and turned smilingly to thefrowning and suspicious Rupert.
"There you are," he said, and made another circle near the first one."Now you put a bullet into the middle of this circle and I'll put oneafterwards through the second circle, and the one who is nearest to thedots I've marked, wins. What have you to say to that? Seems to me betterthan our killing each other. Isn't it?"
"I think you're playing the fool for some reason of your own," answeredRupert. "There's only one thing I want to know from you. Where is Ella?"
"Let me know how you can shoot," answered Deede Dawson, "and I'll tellyou, by all that's holy, I will."
Rupert hesitated. He did not understand all this, he could not imaginewhat motive was in Deede Dawson's mind, though it was certainly trueenough that once they began shooting at each other neither man was atall likely to survive, for Rupert knew he would not miss and he did notthink Deede Dawson would either.
Above all, there was the one thing he wished to know, the oneconsideration that weighed with him above all others--what had become ofElla? And this time there had been in Deede Dawson's voice an accentof twisted and malign sincerity that seemed to say he really would bewilling to tell the truth about her if Rupert would gratify his whimabout this sort of shooting-match that he was suggesting.
The purpose of it Rupert could not understand, but it did not seem tohim there would be any risk of harm in agreeing, for Deede Dawsonwas standing so far away from his own weapon he could not well becontemplating any immediate mischief or treachery.
It did occur to him that the pistol he held might be loaded in onechamber only and that Deede Dawson might be scheming to induce him tothrow away his solitary cartridge.
But a glance reassured him on that point.
"Let me see how you can shoot," Deede Dawson repeated, leaningcarelessly with folded arms against the wall a little distance away."And I promise you I'll tell you where Ella is."
Rupert lifted his pistol and was indeed on the very point of firing whenhe caught a glimpse of such evil triumph and delight in Deede Dawson'scold eyes that he hesitated and lowered the weapon, and at the sametime, looking more closely, searching more intently for some indicationof Deede Dawson's hidden purpose, he noticed, caught in the crack of thewardrobe door, a tiny shred of some blue material only just visible.
He remembered that sometimes of an afternoon Ella had been accustomedto wear a frock made of a material exactly like that of which so tiny afragment showed now in the crack of the wardrobe door.