VI
A PIRATE OF THE LAND
ONE CROWDED HOUR
The place was the Eastbourne-Tunbridge road, not very far from the Crossin Hand--a lonely stretch, with a heath running upon either side. Thetime was half-past eleven upon a Sunday night in the late summer. Amotor was passing slowly down the road.
It was a long, lean Rolls-Royce, running smoothly with a gentle purringof the engine. Through the two vivid circles cast by the electrichead-lights the waving grass fringes and clumps of heather streamedswiftly like some golden cinematograph, leaving a blacker darknessbehind and around them. One ruby-red spot shone upon the road, but nonumber-plate was visible within the dim ruddy halo of the tail-lampwhich cast it. The car was open and of a tourist type, but even in thatobscure light, for the night was moonless, an observer could hardly failto have noticed a curious indefiniteness in its lines. As it slid intoand across the broad stream of light from an open cottage door thereason could be seen. The body was hung with a singular loosearrangement of brown holland. Even the long black bonnet was banded withsome close-drawn drapery.
The solitary man who drove this curious car was broad and burly. He sathunched up over his steering-wheel, with the brim of a Tyrolean hatdrawn down over his eyes. The red end of a cigarette smouldered underthe black shadow thrown by the headgear. A dark ulster of somefrieze-like material was turned up in the collar until it covered hisears. His neck was pushed forward from his rounded shoulders, and heseemed, as the car now slid noiselessly down the long sloping road, withthe clutch disengaged and the engine running free, to be peering aheadof him through the darkness in search of some eagerly-expected object.
The distant toot of a motor-horn came faintly from some point far to thesouth of him. On such a night, at such a place, all traffic must be fromsouth to north when the current of London week-enders sweeps back fromthe watering-place to the capital--from pleasure to duty. The man satstraight and listened intently. Yes, there it was again, and certainlyto the south of him. His face was over the wheel and his eyes strainedthrough the darkness. Then suddenly he spat out his cigarette and gave asharp intake of the breath. Far away down the road two little yellowpoints had rounded a curve. They vanished into a dip, shot upwards oncemore, and then vanished again. The inert man in the draped car wokesuddenly into intense life. From his pocket he pulled a mask of darkcloth, which he fastened securely across his face, adjusting itcarefully that his sight might be unimpeded. For an instant he uncoveredan acetylene hand-lantern, took a hasty glance at his own preparations,and laid it beside a Mauser pistol upon the seat alongside him. Then,twitching his hat down lower than ever, he released his clutch and sliddownward his gear-lever. With a chuckle and shudder the long, blackmachine sprang forward, and shot with a soft sigh from her powerfulengines down the sloping gradient. The driver stooped and switched offhis electric head-lights. Only a dim grey swathe cut through the blackheath indicated the line of his road. From in front there camepresently a confused puffing and rattling and clanging as the oncomingcar breasted the slope. It coughed and spluttered on a powerful,old-fashioned low gear, while its engine throbbed like a weary heart.The yellow, glaring lights dipped for the last time into a switchbackcurve. When they reappeared over the crest the two cars were withinthirty yards of each other. The dark one darted across the road andbarred the other's passage, while a warning acetylene lamp was waved inthe air. With a jarring of brakes the noisy new-comer was brought to ahalt.
"I say," cried an aggrieved voice, "'pon my soul, you know, we mighthave had an accident. Why the devil don't you keep your head-lights on?I never saw you till I nearly burst my radiators on you!"
The acetylene lamp, held forward, discovered a very angry young man,blue-eyed, yellow-moustached, and florid, sitting alone at the wheel ofan antiquated twelve-horse Wolseley. Suddenly the aggrieved look uponhis flushed face changed to one of absolute bewilderment. The driver inthe dark car had sprung out of the seat, a black, long-barrelled,wicked-looking pistol was poked in the traveller's face, and behind thefurther sights of it was a circle of black cloth with two deadly eyeslooking from as many slits.
"Hands up!" said a quick, stern voice. "Hands up! or, by the Lord----"
The young man was as brave as his neighbours, but the hands went up allthe same.
"Get down!" said his assailant, curtly.
The young man stepped forth into the road, followed closely by thecovering lantern and pistol. Once he made as if he would drop his hands,but a short, stern word jerked them up again.
"I say, look here, this is rather out o' date, ain't it?" said thetraveller. "I expect you're joking--what?"
"Your watch," said the man behind the Mauser pistol.
"You can't really mean it!"
"Your watch, I say!"
"Well, take it, if you must. It's only plated, anyhow. You're twocenturies out in time, or a few thousand miles longitude. The bush isyour mark--or America. You don't seem in the picture on a Sussex road."
"Purse," said the man. There was something very compelling in his voiceand methods. The purse was handed over.
"Any rings?"
"Don't wear 'em."
"Stand there! Don't move!"
The highwayman passed his victim and threw open the bonnet of theWolseley. His hand, with a pair of steel pliers, was thrust deep intothe works. There was the snap of a parting wire.
"Hang it all, don't crock my car!" cried the traveller.
He turned, but quick as a flash the pistol was at his head once more.And yet even in that flash, whilst the robber whisked round from thebroken circuit, something had caught the young man's eye which made himgasp and start. He opened his mouth as if about to shout some words.Then with an evident effort he restrained himself.
"Get in," said the highwayman.
The traveller climbed back to his seat.
"What is your name?"
"Ronald Barker. What's yours?"
The masked man ignored the impertinence.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"My cards are in my purse. Take one."
The highwayman sprang into his car, the engine of which had hissed andwhispered in gentle accompaniment to the interview. With a clash hethrew back his side-brake, flung in his gears, twirled the wheel hardround, and cleared the motionless Wolseley. A minute later he wasgliding swiftly, with all his lights gleaming, some half-mile southwardon the road, while Mr. Ronald Barker, a side-lamp in his hand, wasrummaging furiously among the odds and ends of his repair-box for astrand of wire which would connect up his electricity and set him on hisway once more.
When he had placed a safe distance between himself and his victim, theadventurer eased up, took his booty from his pocket, replaced the watch,opened the purse, and counted out the money. Seven shillings constitutedthe miserable spoil. The poor result of his efforts seemed to amuserather than annoy him, for he chuckled as he held the two half-crownsand the florin in the glare of his lantern. Then suddenly his mannerchanged. He thrust the thin purse back into his pocket, released hisbrake, and shot onwards with the same tense bearing with which he hadstarted upon his adventure. The lights of another car were coming downthe road.
On this occasion the methods of the highwayman were less furtive.Experience had clearly given him confidence. With lights still blazinghe ran towards the new-comers, and, halting in the middle of the road,summoned them to stop. From the point of view of the astonishedtravellers the result was sufficiently impressive. They saw in the glareof their own head-lights two glowing discs on either side of the long,black-muzzled snout of a high-power car, and above the masked face andmenacing figure of its solitary driver. In the golden circle thrown bythe Rover there stood an elegant, open-topped, twenty-horse Humber, withan undersized and very astonished chauffeur blinking from under hispeaked cap. From behind the wind-screen the veil-bound hats andwondering faces of two very pretty young women protruded, one uponeither side, and a little crescendo of frightened squeaks announced theacute emotion of one of
them. The other was cooler and more critical.
"Don't give it away, Hilda," she whispered. "Do shut up, and don't besuch a silly. It's Bertie or one of the boys playing it on us."
"No, no! It's the real thing, Flossie. It's a robber, sure enough. Oh,my goodness, whatever shall we do?"
"What an 'ad.'!" cried the other. "Oh, what a glorious 'ad.'! Too latenow for the mornings, but they'll have it in every evening paper, sure."
"What's it going to cost?" groaned the other. "Oh, Flossie, Flossie, I'msure I'm going to faint! Don't you think if we both screamed together wecould do some good? Isn't he too awful with that black thing over hisface? Oh, dear, oh, dear! He's killing poor little Alf!"
The proceedings of the robber were indeed somewhat alarming. Springingdown from his car, he had pulled the chauffeur out of his seat by thescruff of his neck. The sight of the Mauser had cut short allremonstrance, and under its compulsion the little man had pulled openthe bonnet and extracted the sparking plugs. Having thus secured theimmobility of his capture, the masked man walked forward, lantern inhand, to the side of the car. He had laid aside the gruff sternness withwhich he had treated Mr. Ronald Barker, and his voice and manner weregentle, though determined. He even raised his hat as a prelude to hisaddress.
"I am sorry to inconvenience you, ladies," said he, and his voice hadgone up several notes since the previous interview. "May I ask who youare?"
Miss Hilda was beyond coherent speech, but Miss Flossie was of a sternermould.
"This is a pretty business," said she. "What right have you to stop uson the public road, I should like to know?"
"My time is short," said the robber, in a sterner voice. "I must ask youto answer my question."
"Tell him, Flossie! For goodness' sake be nice to him!" cried Hilda.
"Well, we're from the Gaiety Theatre, London, if you want to know," saidthe young lady. "Perhaps you've heard of Miss Flossie Thornton and MissHilda Mannering? We've been playing a week at the Royal at Eastbourne,and took a Sunday off to ourselves. So now you know!"
"I must ask you for your purses and for your jewellery."
Both ladies set up shrill expostulations, but they found, as Mr. RonaldBarker had done, that there was something quietly compelling in thisman's methods. In a very few minutes they had handed over their purses,and a pile of glittering rings, bangles, brooches and chains was lyingupon the front seat of the car. The diamonds glowed and shimmered likelittle electric points in the light of the lantern. He picked up theglittering tangle and weighed it in his hand.
"Anything you particularly value?" he asked the ladies; but Miss Flossiewas in no humour for concessions.
"Don't come the Claude Duval over us," said she. "Take the lot or leavethe lot. We don't want bits of our own given back to us."
"Except just Billy's necklace!" cried Hilda, and snatched at a littlerope of pearls. The robber bowed, and released his hold of it.
"Anything else?"
The valiant Flossie began suddenly to cry. Hilda did the same. Theeffect upon the robber was surprising. He threw the whole heap ofjewellery into the nearest lap.
"There! there! Take it!" he said. "It's trumpery stuff, anyhow. It'sworth something to you, and nothing to me."
Tears changed in a moment to smiles.
"You're welcome to the purses. The 'ad.' is worth ten times the money.But what a funny way of getting a living nowadays! Aren't you afraid ofbeing caught? It's all so wonderful, like a scene from a comedy."
"It may be a tragedy," said the robber.
"Oh, I hope not--I'm sure I hope not!" cried the two ladies of thedrama.
But the robber was in no mood for further conversation. Far away downthe road tiny points of light had appeared. Fresh business was coming tohim, and he must not mix his cases. Disengaging his machine, he raisedhis hat, and slipped off to meet this new arrival, while Miss Flossieand Miss Hilda leaned out of their derelict car, still palpitating fromtheir adventure, and watched the red gleam of the tail-light until itmerged into the darkness.
This time there was every sign of a rich prize. Behind its four grandlamps set in a broad frame of glittering brasswork the magnificentsixty-horse Daimler breasted the slope with the low, deep, even snorewhich proclaimed its enormous latent strength. Like some rich-laden,high-pooped Spanish galleon, she kept her course until the prowlingcraft ahead of her swept across her bows and brought her to a suddenhalt. An angry face, red, blotched, and evil, shot out of the openwindow of the closed limousine. The robber was aware of a high, baldforehead, gross pendulous cheeks, and two little crafty eyes whichgleamed between creases of fat.
"Out of my way, sir! Out of my way this instant!" cried a rasping voice."Drive over him, Hearn! Get down and pull him off the seat. The fellow'sdrunk--he's drunk, I say!"
Up to this point the proceedings of the modern highwayman might havepassed as gentle. Now they turned in an instant to savagery. Thechauffeur, a burly, capable fellow, incited by that raucous voice behindhim, sprang from the car and seized the advancing robber by the throat.The latter hit out with the butt-end of his pistol, and the man droppedgroaning on the road. Stepping over his prostrate body the adventurerpulled open the door, seized the stout occupant savagely by the ear, anddragged him bellowing on the highway. Then, very deliberately, he struckhim twice across the face with his open hand. The blows rang out likepistol-shots in the silence of the night. The fat traveller turned aghastly colour and fell back half senseless against the side of thelimousine. The robber dragged open his coat, wrenched away the heavygold watch-chain with all that it held, plucked out the great diamondpin that sparkled in the black satin tie, dragged off four rings--notone of which could have cost less than three figures--and finally torefrom his inner pocket a bulky leather notebook. All this property hetransferred to his own black overcoat, and added to it the man's pearlcuff-links, and even the golden stud which held his collar. Having madesure that there was nothing else to take, the robber flashed his lanternupon the prostrate chauffeur, and satisfied himself that he was stunnedand not dead. Then, returning to the master, he proceeded verydeliberately to tear all his clothes from his body with a ferociousenergy which set his victim whimpering and writhing in imminentexpectation of murder.
Whatever the tormentor's intention may have been, it was veryeffectually frustrated. A sound made him turn his head, and there, novery great distance off, were the lights of a car coming swiftly fromthe north. Such a car must have already passed the wreckage which thispirate had left behind him. It was following his track with a deliberatepurpose, and might be crammed with every county constable of thedistrict.
The adventurer had no time to lose. He darted from his bedraggledvictim, sprang into his own seat, and with his foot on the acceleratorshot swiftly off down the road. Some way down there was a narrow sidelane, and into this the fugitive turned, cracking on his high speed andleaving a good five miles between him and any pursuer before he venturedto stop. Then, in a quiet corner, he counted over his booty of theevening--the paltry plunder of Mr. Ronald Barker, the ratherbetter-furnished purses of the actresses, which contained four poundsbetween them, and, finally, the gorgeous jewellery and well-fillednotebook of the plutocrat upon the Daimler. Five notes of fifty pounds,four of ten, fifteen sovereigns, and a number of valuable papers made upa most noble haul. It was clearly enough for one night's work. Theadventurer replaced all his ill-gotten gains in his pocket, and,lighting a cigarette, set forth upon his way with the air of a man whohas no further care upon his mind.
* * * * *
It was on the Monday morning following upon this eventful evening thatSir Henry Hailworthy, of Walcot Old Place, having finished his breakfastin a leisurely fashion, strolled down to his study with the intention ofwriting a few letters before setting forth to take his place upon thecounty bench. Sir Henry was a Deputy-Lieutenant of the county; he was abaronet of ancient blood; he was a magistrate of ten years' standing;and he was famous above all as the breeder of many a g
ood horse and themost desperate rider in all the Weald country. A tall, upstanding man,with a strong clean-shaven face, heavy black eyebrows, and a square,resolute jaw, he was one whom it was better to call friend than foe.Though nearly fifty years of age, he bore no sign of having passed hisyouth, save that Nature, in one of her freakish moods, had planted onelittle feather of white hair above his right ear, making the rest of histhick black curls the darker by contrast. He was in thoughtful mood thismorning, for having lit his pipe he sat at his desk with his blanknote-paper in front of him, lost in a deep reverie.
Suddenly his thoughts were brought back to the present. From behind thelaurels of the curving drive there came a low, clanking sound, whichswelled into the clatter and jingle of an ancient car. Then from roundthe corner there swung an old-fashioned Wolseley, with afresh-complexioned, yellow-moustached young man at the wheel. Sir Henrysprang to his feet at the sight, and then sat down once more. He roseagain as a minute later the footman announced Mr. Ronald Barker. It wasan early visit, but Barker was Sir Henry's intimate friend. As each wasa fine shot, horseman, and billiard-player, there was much in commonbetween the two men, and the younger (and poorer) was in the habit ofspending at least two evenings a week at Walcot Old Place. Therefore,Sir Henry advanced cordially with outstretched hand to welcome him.
"You're an early bird this morning," said he. "What's up? If you aregoing over to Lewes we could motor together."
But the younger man's demeanour was peculiar and ungracious. Hedisregarded the hand which was held out to him, and he stood pulling athis own long moustache and staring with troubled, questioning eyes atthe county magistrate.
"Well, what's the matter?" asked the latter.
Still the young man did not speak. He was clearly on the edge of aninterview which he found it most difficult to open. His host grewimpatient.
"You don't seem yourself this morning. What on earth is the matter?Anything upset you?"
"Yes," said Ronald Barker, with emphasis.
"What has?"
"_You_ have."
Sir Henry smiled. "Sit down, my dear fellow. If you have any grievanceagainst me, let me hear it."
Barker sat down. He seemed to be gathering himself for a reproach. Whenit did come it was like a bullet from a gun.
"Why did you rob me last night?"
The magistrate was a man of iron nerve. He showed neither surprise norresentment. Not a muscle twitched upon his calm, set face.
"Why do you say that I robbed you last night?"
"A big, tall fellow in a motor-car stopped me on the Mayfield road. Hepoked a pistol in my face and took my purse and my watch. Sir Henry,that man was you."
The magistrate smiled.
"Am I the only big, tall man in the district? Am I the only man with amotor-car?"
"Do you think I couldn't tell a Rolls-Royce when I see it--I, who spendhalf my life on a car and the other half under it? Who has a Rolls-Royceabout here except you?"
"My dear Barker, don't you think that such a modern highwayman as youdescribe would be more likely to operate outside his own district? Howmany hundred Rolls-Royces are there in the South of England?"
"No, it won't do, Sir Henry--it won't do! Even your voice, though yousunk it a few notes, was familiar enough to me. But hang it, man! Whatdid you do it _for_? That's what gets over me. That you should stick upme, one of your closest friends, a man that worked himself to the bonewhen you stood for the division--and all for the sake of a Brummagemwatch and a few shillings--is simply incredible."
"Simply incredible," repeated the magistrate, with a smile.
"And then those actresses, poor little devils, who have to earn all theyget. I followed you down the road, you see. That was a dirty trick, ifever I heard one. The City shark was different. If a chap must goa-robbing, that sort of fellow is fair game. But your friend, and thenthe girls--well, I say again, I couldn't have believed it."
"Then why believe it?"
"Because it _is_ so."
"Well, you seem to have persuaded yourself to that effect. You don'tseem to have much evidence to lay before any one else."
"I could swear to you in a police-court. What put the lid on it was thatwhen you were cutting my wire--and an infernal liberty it was!--I sawthat white tuft of yours sticking out from behind your mask."
For the first time an acute observer might have seen some slight sign ofemotion upon the face of the baronet.
"You seem to have a fairly vivid imagination," said he.
His visitor flushed with anger.
"See here, Hailworthy," said he, opening his hand and showing a small,jagged triangle of black cloth. "Do you see that? It was on the groundnear the car of the young women. You must have ripped it off as youjumped out from your seat. Now send for that heavy black driving-coat ofyours. If you don't ring the bell I'll ring it myself, and we shall haveit in. I'm going to see this thing through, and don't you make anymistake about that."
The baronet's answer was a surprising one. He rose, passed Barker'schair, and, walking over to the door, he locked it and placed the key inhis pocket.
"You _are_ going to see it through," said he. "I'll lock you in untilyou do. Now we must have a straight talk, Barker, as man to man, andwhether it ends in tragedy or not depends on you."
He had half-opened one of the drawers in his desk as he spoke. Hisvisitor frowned in anger.
"You won't make matters any better by threatening me, Hailworthy. I amgoing to do my duty, and you won't bluff me out of it."
"I have no wish to bluff you. When I spoke of a tragedy I did not meanto you. What I meant was that there are some turns which this affaircannot be allowed to take. I have neither kith nor kin, but there is thefamily honour, and some things are impossible."
"It is late to talk like that."
"Well, perhaps it is, but not too late. And now I have a good deal tosay to you. First of all, you are quite right, and it was I who held youup last night on the Mayfield road."
"But why on earth----"
"All right. Let me tell it my own way. First I want you to look atthese." He unlocked a drawer and he took out two small packages. "Thesewere to be posted in London to-night. This one is addressed to you, andI may as well hand it over to you at once. It contains your watch andyour purse. So, you see bar your cut wire you would have been none theworse for your adventure. This other packet is addressed to the youngladies of the Gaiety Theatre, and their properties are enclosed. I hopeI have convinced you that I had intended full reparation in each casebefore you came to accuse me?"
"Well?" asked Barker.
"Well, we will now deal with Sir George Wilde, who is, as you may notknow, the senior partner of Wilde and Guggendorf, the founders of theLudgate Bank of infamous memory. His chauffeur is a case apart. You maytake it from me, upon my word of honour, that I had plans for thechauffeur. But it is the master that I want to speak of. You know that Iam not a rich man myself. I expect all the county knows that. When BlackTulip lost the Derby I was hard hit. And other things as well. Then Ihad a legacy of a thousand. This infernal bank was paying 7 per cent. ondeposits. I knew Wilde. I saw him. I asked him if it was safe. He saidit was. I paid it in, and within forty-eight hours the whole thing wentto bits. It came out before the Official Receiver that Wilde had knownfor three months that nothing could save him. And yet he took all mycargo aboard his sinking vessel. He was all right--confound him! He hadplenty besides. But I had lost all my money and no law could help me.Yet he had robbed me as clearly as one man could rob another. I saw himand he laughed in my face. Told me to stick to Consols, and that thelesson was cheap at the price. So I just swore that, by hook or bycrook, I would get level with him. I knew his habits, for I had made itmy business to do so. I knew that he came back from Eastbourse on Sundaynights. I knew that he carried a good sum with him in his pocket-book.Well it's _my_ pocket-book now. Do you mean to tell me that I'm notmorally justified in what I have done? By the Lord, I'd have left thedevil as bare as he left many a widow and orp
han if I'd had the time!"
"That's all very well. But what about me? What about the girls?"
"Have some common sense, Barker. Do you suppose that I could go andstick up this one personal enemy of mine and escape detection? It wasimpossible. I was bound to make myself out to be just a common robberwho had run up against him by accident. So I turned myself loose on thehigh road and took my chance. As the devil would have it, the first manI met was yourself. I was a fool not to recognise that old ironmonger'sstore of yours by the row it made coming up the hill. When I saw you Icould hardly speak for laughing. But I was bound to carry it through.The same with the actresses. I'm afraid I gave myself away, for Icouldn't take their little fallals, but I had to keep up a show. Thencame my man himself. There was no bluff about that. I was out to skinhim, and I did. Now, Barker, what do you think of it all? I had a pistolat your head last night, and, by George! whether you believe it or not,you have one at mine this morning!"
The young man rose slowly, and with a broad smile he wrung themagistrate by the hand.
"Don't do it again. It's too risky," said he. "The swine would scoreheavily if you were taken."
"You're a good chap, Barker," said the magistrate. "No, I won't do itagain. Who's the fellow who talks of 'one crowded hour of gloriouslife'? By George! it's too fascinating. I had the time of my life! Talkof fox-hunting! No, I'll never touch it again, for it might get a gripof me."
A telephone rang sharply upon the table, and the baronet put thereceiver to his ear. As he listened, he smiled at his companion.
"I'm rather late this morning," said he, "and they are awaiting for meto try some petty larcenies on the county bench."
TALES OF BLUE WATER