CHAPTER XIX
THE MAN ON THE TOWER
I quitted Friar's Park unobserved--as I had entered it; walkingquickly across to the shrubbery, I began to work my way back to thepoint at which I must strike westward in order to reach the weed-grownkitchen-garden. At the risk of encountering man-traps I gave the lodgea wide berth and came out in sight of the wall at a point much nearerthe lawns of the house than that from which I had entered.
What it was that prompted me to turn and take a final look at thehouse I cannot say, but before commencing to make my way through thewilderness of the kitchen-garden, I know that I stood and looked backtowards the ancient Saxon tower which uprose, silvered by themoonlight, above the trees that obscured from my view all the rest ofthe house.
Right to the embrasured crest it was sharply outlined by the brilliantmoon--and as I looked I felt my heart leap suddenly; and then, almostholding my breath, I crouched, distrusting the very shadows whichafforded me shelter.
For leaning out through one of the embrasures at the top of the tower,I clearly saw the figure of a man!
At first so whitely was his face lighted up by the moon that I had nodoubt of the figure being that of a man, but he remained so still,seeming always to look in a fixed way in the same direction, that now,momentarily I doubted, until a slight movement betrayed the fact thatmy first impression had been correct.
Who he was I could not possibly tell from that distance, but of hisoccupation I became assured at the moment that he moved; for themoonlight glittered brightly on the lenses of the binoculars throughwhich he had been surveying some point visible only from thatelevation.
Still I watched, and again I saw the man of the tower raise hisglasses and resume his scrutiny of that distant object which soclosely engaged his attention. Remembering that a patch of lighttouched the top of the wall, spearlike, at the point where I mustcross it in order to reach the fir tree, I abandoned my formerprecautions and hurried through the tangled weeds towards the firwhich was my sailing mark.
Hastily I scrambled up the natural ladder formed by the vine, andwithout pause climbed down again to the edge of the dry ditch beyond.To have looked back over the wall would have been useless, since fromthat point the tower would have been invisible. Nor indeed had I anydesire to pause in my precarious journey.
That I had avoided man-traps in that hurried retreat through theweeds, I knew not whether to ascribe to good luck or to the fact thatnone were set there, but now in the more open ground, thicklybestrewn, however, with clumps of undergrowth, I resumed all my oldvigilance, and carefully retraced the path, so well as I couldremember it, by which I had first arrived at the friendly fir.
When at last I found myself once more upon the highroad and free ofthe ground of Friar's Park, I stood a while and wondered to findmyself bathed in perspiration.
There was something very eerie in the thought that I had exploredthose numerous rooms of the deserted house and had moreover encircledthe entire building habitable and otherwise, whilst that mysteriouswatcher all the time had been lurking up there in the tower! Iwondered what his survey portended. If it signified that he haddetected my presence at the moment that I had left the house, why washis gaze focused upon the distance and not upon the surroundinggrounds? If he had not seen or heard me, then I must compliment myselfupon a very successful burglarious feat.
But assuming the latter explanation to be the correct one, how muchdarker became the mystery of the man's presence and purpose. Who washe? And what did he do at this hour in deserted Friar's Park?
Since I had left the game-keeper deeply engaged in his packingoperations at the lodge, I dismissed the idea that the figure on thetower might have been that of Hawkins, nor was I in any way assistedin my attempts to solve the mystery by what I had seen of the man, forthe distance had been too great to allow of my perceiving his facewith anything like clearness.
Presently, then, I set out upon my return journey to the Abbey Inn,turning over in my mind this added perplexity which had entered thecase. As Gatton had quite recently observed, every new piece ofevidence which came to light in this most bewildering affair seemedmerely to plunge the issue in greater obscurity than ever. My feetonce set upon the slope which led to Upper Crossleys, I allowed thismood of abstraction to have its way, and the problem with which Ifound myself principally engaged was that of the disappearance of LadyBurnham Coverly.
As I remembered the suave assurances of Dr. Damar Greefe that theill-health of Lady Burnham rendered it impossible for her to receivevisitors, I wondered anew at the complex villainy of this formidableEurasian. The state of the rooms in Friar's Park clearly demonstratedthe fact that neither Lady Coverly nor any other had resided there formany months, perhaps many years. What then did it all mean? What wasthe purpose of the watch and ward kept by the gipsy game-keeper overthe grounds and approaches to the house?
It could only mean that this was a device of Dr. Damar Greefe's toprevent any of the neighbors from seeking admittance to the house andthus learning the strange secret which its emptiness revealed.
Here, in fact, in this old monastic establishment, would seem toreside the very genius of that spirit of desolation which had touchedme unpleasantly in the hour of my arrival in Crossleys. I determinedto ascertain by inquiries amongst the local tradespeople, none of whomI had hitherto met, by what means the fact that no one resided atFriar's Park was concealed from those whose ordinary businessactivities would demand their presenting themselves at the house fororders, etc. But even as the plan suggested itself to me, I thought Iperceived an answer to my question; in all probability, I determined,Dr. Damar Greefe or the Hawkins's, who were palpably his creatures,acted as a barrier between the tradespeople and the missing lady ofthe Park.
But what it could all portend was a problem beyond the power of myimagination or deductive reasoning. If Lady Coverly had changed herresidence for some reason, with what object did the Eurasian continueto lead every one in the neighborhood to suppose that she stillresided at Friar's Park?
It was all a hopeless tangle, and the more I thought about it the morediscouraged did I become. I seemed to get further, too, from that linkfor which I sought--the link connecting the mystery with that otherwhich I always associated with the Red House. The luminous eyesafforded the visible link; this I could not doubt. But what relationto the death of Sir Marcus did the disappearance of Lady BurnhamCoverly bear? Secondly, what was Dr. Damar Greefe's place in thescheme? And thirdly (the most appalling mystery of all) who or whatwas the woman with the cat's eyes?
At this point in my meditations I discovered that I had arrivedbefore the Abbey Inn, now plunged in darkness, and believing that Idetected the sound of footsteps behind me I became eventually thevictim of a sort of panic which perhaps will be forgiven me under thecircumstances. For emerging from these unpleasant reflections andhearing or believing that I heard sounds of pursuit from the lonelymoon-patched road behind, I know that I hurried forward to the sidedoor and silently prayed that I should find it unfastened as Martinhad assured me that it would be.
In this particular I was speedily reassured, for the door opened to mytouch--and I became conscious of a wish that there might be some meansof fastening it from within. However, I could find none, but hurryingupstairs, I determined to take a precaution which hitherto I had notadopted and that night to lock my bedroom door.
Entering the room, I fumbled for a box of matches in my pocket andpresently discovering them struck one and looked about me for thecandle which usually stood upon a little cabinet beside the bed.To-night, however, it had been moved for some reason, and put over bythe window on the dressing-table. As I made this discovery the matchsmoldered out, and at the moment I was about to strike another thesound of footsteps which I had formerly detected grew louder andnearer, so that I could no longer doubt that some one was runningalong the road towards the Abbey Inn.
A great curiosity respecting this person seized me, and withoutstriking a match as I had intended to do, I walked
to the window andlooked out into the road. Twenty yards away I saw the figure of a manwho seemed to be come almost to the end of his resources; for I couldhear him panting as he ran. Nor did my wonder decrease when, as hecame nearer and stared up in my direction, I recognized him for theshabby-looking person whom I had observed that morning sitting on thebench before the inn door.
Wondering what his presence might portend--for clearly his businesswas with _me_--I leaned out of the window, and as he came up to thedoor of the inn I saw him stagger and clutch at the post whichsupported the sign-board, swaying dizzily. He was clearly almostexhausted, and his voice when he spoke was a husky whisper:
"Don't light your candle!" he said.
Now, this remark, coming at such a time and in these circumstances,struck me as so ludicrous that at first I was tempted to laugh; butthe man's earnest sincerity, as evidenced by his exhausted conditionand the urgency of his manner, did not fail to impress me, and:
"Why not?" I asked, still leaning out of the window and filled with agreat wonderment.
"Never mind," he panted. "Don't! Can I come up?"
Something now in the breathless speech of the man below struck me asoddly familiar. But yet so dense was I that I failed to recognize thetruth of the matter, and:
"Certainly," I said. "I will bring a light down to show you the way,if you have business with me."
"No light!" he cried hoarsely. "If you value your life, don't strike amatch!"
By this time so bewildered had I become that I scarce knew whether todescend to meet this apparent madman or to remain where I was.
"Don't hesitate, Mr. Addison!" he cried, now beginning to recover hisbreath. "Do exactly as I tell you!"
"Good God!" I exclaimed.
I turned and ran to the door and on downstairs. For at last I hadrecognized the voice of this midnight runner. Throwing open the door,I held out my hand and the shabby-looking man extended his in return.
"_Gatton!"_ I cried excitedly. "Gatton! What on earth does this mean?Why have you been masquerading in this fashion? I saw you here thismorning and you never gave me the slightest sign of acknowledgment!"
"I never intended to!" panted the Inspector, staggering rather thanwalking up the stairs. "But I have performed one of the hardest tasksof my life to-night and have only succeeded by a few seconds!"
We were now at the door of my room, but:
"Don't go in!" said Gatton shortly. "Let me think what we must do."
"But I don't understand at all!"
"You will understand in a moment!" was the grim reply. "You would haveunderstood already if you had lighted your candle."
Words failed me altogether. At that we stood in the passage for somemoments in silence; then:
"We have got to risk it," said Gatton, "if my theory is to be put tothe test"
"Risk it?"
"Oh! I can assure you of the risk," he declared. "It will betouch-and-go. Are you game?"
"Well," I said, laughing in a very forced fashion, "this has been anight of such intense surprises that I think I can survive one more."
"Very well," replied the Inspector; and there was something strange inhearing the familiar voice and dimly discerning in the reflectedmoonlight, which shone in at a window further along the passage, theunfamiliar figure before me.
"What have we to do?"
"We have to take a chance of sudden death!" he answered, "but we willminimize it as much as possible."
Seeing me about to give voice to one of the many questions whichliterally burned upon my tongue:
"Explanations can come later," said he. "Where can I find a candle?"
"There is one on the dressing-table just to the left of the window. Iwill get it--"
But he grasped my arm roughly, and:
"This is _my_ business! Wait here for me," he rapped tersely.
He heard the rasp of the match upon the box, as I struck a light toguide him in his search. Whereupon:
"I thought I warned you!" he cried, and struck the match from my hand."_No light_!"
With that he pushed open the door, and I saw his square figureoutlined against the moon-bright open window as he crossed the room.Since he had referred to the peril which hung over us, it was withbated breath that I awaited his return, not in the least knowing whatto expect. A few moments later he returned with the candlestick.
"Now," said he, carefully reclosing the door, "light the candle."
Awed by something in his voice and manner, I did as he directedwithout demur, noting with amazement, in the light thus created, howsimple yet how effective was the disguise which my friend had adopted.
He gave me no time for comment, however, but:
"Listen," said he. "I'm going to put this candle in your room and thenyou and I are going to run."
"Run?" I cried.
"Exactly. Run for our lives! Preferably upstairs. Is there any vacantroom above from which we can look out in the same direction as fromyour window?"
"The room above is vacant," I replied, "and probably we shall find thedoor unlocked."
"We'll risk that, then," said Gatton. "You might start and lead theway."
"Can I use my electric torch?" I asked.
"On the stairs," replied Gatton; "but you must extinguish it when weenter the room above."
With that he thrust open the door of my bedroom, ran in and ran outagain, banging the door behind him as though pursued by devils!
Then the pair of us were racing up the stairs madly for the roomabove, I vaguely wondering if my companion had taken leave of hissenses. Yet of the verity of the peril which he dreaded came speedyconfirmation.
At the very moment that my hand touched the knob of the door above,and ere I could open it, the whole fabric of the Abbey Inn wasconvulsed--the floor rocked beneath my feet; and there ensued thesound of a deafening explosion from the room below! An echo, or whatsounded like an echo, sharp and staccato, came from the distanthills!