CHAPTER XIX
I MEET AN OLD FRIEND
When I reached the house I found, to my astonishment,that the window I had left open as I scrambledout the night before was closed. I dropped my bag andcrept to the front door, thinking that if Bates had discoveredmy absence it was useless to attempt any furtherdeception. I was amazed to find the great doorsof the main entrance flung wide, and in real alarm Iran through the hall and back to the library.
The nearest door stood open, and, as I peered in, acurious scene disclosed itself. A few of the large cathedralcandles still burned brightly in several places,their flame rising strangely in the gray morning light.Books had been taken from the shelves and scatteredeverywhere, and sharp implements had cut ugly gashesin the shelving. The drawers containing sketches andphotographs had been pulled out and their contentsthrown about and trampled under foot.
The house was as silent as a tomb, but as I stood onthe threshold trying to realize what had happened, somethingstirred by the fireplace and I crept forward, listening,until I stood by the long table beneath the greatchandelier. Again I heard a sound as of some animalwaking and stretching, followed by a moan that wasundoubtedly human. Then the hands of a man clutchedthe farther edge of the table, and slowly and evidentlywith infinite difficulty a figure rose and the dark faceof Bates, with eyes blurred and staring strangely, confrontedme.
He drew his body to its height, and leaned heavilyupon the table. I snatched a candle and bent towardhim to make sure my eyes were not tricking me.
“Mr. Glenarm! Mr. Glenarm!” he exclaimed inbroken whispers. “It is Bates, sir.”
“What have you done; what has happened?” I demanded.
He put his hand to his head uncertainly and gapedas though trying to gather his wits.
He was evidently dazed by whatever had occurred,and I sprang around and helped him to a couch. Hewould not lie down but sat up, staring and passing hishand over his head. It was rapidly growing lighter,and I saw a purple and black streak across his templewhere a bludgeon of some sort had struck him.
“What does this mean, Bates? Who has been in thehouse?”
“I can’t tell you, Mr. Glenarm.”
“Can’t tell me! You will tell me or go to jail!There’s been mischief done here and I don’t intend tohave any nonsense about it from you. Well—?”
He was clearly suffering, but in my anger at the sightof the wreck of the room I grasped his shoulder andshook him roughly.
“It was early this morning,” he faltered, “about twoo’clock, I heard noises in the lower part of the house.I came down thinking likely it was you, and rememberingthat you had been sick yesterday—”
“Yes, go on.”
The thought of my truancy was no balm to my consciencejust then.
“As I came into the hall, I saw lights in the library.As you weren’t down last night the room hadn’t beenlighted at all. I heard steps, and some one tapping witha hammer—”
“Yes; a hammer. Go on!”
It was, then, the same old story! The war had beencarried openly into the house, but Bates,—just whyshould any one connected with the conspiracy injureBates, who stood so near to Pickering, its leader? Thefellow was undoubtedly hurt,—there was no mistakingthe lump on his head. He spoke with a painful difficultythat was not assumed, I felt increasingly sure, ashe went on.
“I saw a man pulling out the books and tapping theinside of the shelves. He was working very fast. Andthe next thing I knew he let in another man throughone of the terrace doors,—the one there that still standsa little open.”
He flinched as be turned slightly to indicate it, andhis face twitched with pain.
“Never mind that; tell the rest of your story.”
“Then I ran in, grabbed one of the big candelabrafrom the table, and went for the nearest man. Theywere about to begin on the chimney-breast there,—itwas Mr. Glenarm’s pride in all the house,—and thataccounts for my being there in front of the fireplace.They rather got the best of me, sir.
“Clearly; I see they did. You had a hand-to-handfight with them, and being two to one—”
“No; there were two of us,—don’t you understand,two of us! There was another man who came runningin from somewhere, and he took sides with me. Ithought at first it was you. The robbers thought so,too, for one of them yelled, ‘Great God; it’s Glenarm!’just like that. But it wasn’t you, but quite another person.”
“That’s a good story so far; and then what happened?”
“I don’t remember much more, except that some onesoused me with water that helped my head considerably,and the next thing I knew I was staring across the tablethere at you.”
“Who were these men, Bates? Speak up quickly!”
My tone was peremptory. Here was, I felt, a crucialmoment in our relations.
“Well,” he began deliberately, “I dislike to makecharges against a fellow man, but I strongly suspect oneof the men of being—”
“Yes! Tell the whole truth or it will be the worsefor you.”
“I very much fear one of them was Ferguson, thegardener over the way. I’m disappointed in him,sir.”
“Very good; and now for the other one.”
“I didn’t get my eyes on him. I had closed withFerguson and we were having quite a lively time of itwhen the other one came in; then the man who came tomy help mixed us all up,—he was a very lively person,—and what became of Ferguson and the rest of it I don’tknow.”
There was food for thought in what he said. He hadtaken punishment in defense of my property—the crackon his head was undeniable—and I could not abusehim or question his veracity with any grace; not, atleast, without time for investigation and study. However,I ventured to ask him one question.
“If you were guessing, shouldn’t you think it quitelikely that Morgan was the other man?”
He met my gaze squarely.
“I think it wholly possible, Mr. Glenarm.”
“And the man who helped you—who in the devil washe?”
“Bless me, I don’t know. He disappeared. I’d likemightily to see him again.”
“Humph! Now you’d better do something for yourhead. I’ll summon the village doctor if you say so.”
“No; thank you, sir. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“And now we’ll keep quiet about this. Don’t mentionit or discuss it with any one.”
“Certainly not, sir.”
He rose, and staggered a little, but crossed to thebroad mantel-shelf in the great chimney-breast, restedhis arm upon it for a moment, passed his hand over thedark wood with a sort of caress, then bent his eyes uponthe floor littered with books and drawings and paperstorn from the cabinets and all splashed with tallow andwax from the candles. The daylight had increased untilthe havoc wrought by the night’s visitors was fully apparent.The marauders had made a sorry mess of theroom, and I thought Bates’ lip quivered as he saw thewreck.
“It would have been a blow to Mr. Glenarm; the roomwas his pride,—his pride, sir.”
He went out toward the kitchen, and I ran up stairsto my own room. I cursed the folly that had led me toleave my window open, for undoubtedly Morgan andhis new ally, St. Agatha’s gardener, had taken advantageof it to enter the house. Quite likely, too, they hadobserved my absence, and this would undoubtedly becommunicated to Pickering. I threw open my doorand started back with an exclamation of amazement.
Standing at my chiffonnier, between two windows,was a man, clad in a bath-gown—my own, I saw withfury—his back to me, the razor at his face, placidlyshaving himself.
Without turning he addressed me, quite coolly andcasually, as though his being there was the most naturalthing in the world.
“Good morning, Mr. Glenarm! Rather damagingevidence, that costume. I suppose it’s the custom of thecountry for gentlemen in evening clothes to go out bythe window and return by the door. You might thinkthe other way round preferable.”
“Larry!” I shouted.
“Jack!”
; “Kick that door shut and lock it,” he commanded, ina sharp, severe tone that I remembered well—and justnow welcomed—in him.
“How, why and when—?”
“Never mind about me. I’m here—thrown the enemyoff for a few days; and you give me lessons in currenthistory first, while I climb into my armor. Pray pardonthe informality—”
He seized a broom and began work upon a pair oftrousers to which mud and briers clung tenaciously.His coat and hat lay on a chair, they, too, much theworse for rough wear.
There was never any use in refusing to obey Larry’sorders, and as he got into his clothes I gave him in asfew words as possible the chief incidents that hadmarked my stay at Glenarm House. He continued dressingwith care, helping himself to a shirt and collar frommy chiffonnier and choosing with unfailing eye thebest tie in my collection. Now and then he asked aquestion tersely, or, again, he laughed or swore direly inGaelic. When I had concluded the story of Pickering’svisit, and of the conversation I overheard between theexecutor and Bates in the church porch, Larry wheeledround with the scarf half-tied in his fingers and surveyedme commiseratingly.
“And you didn’t rush them both on the spot and haveit out?”
“No. I was too much taken aback, for one thing—”
“I dare say you were!”
“And for another I didn’t think the time ripe. I’mgoing to beat that fellow, Larry, but I want him toshow his hand fully before we come to a smash-up. Iknow as much about the house and its secrets as he does,—that’s one consolation. Sometimes I don’t believethere’s a shilling here, and again I’m sure there’s a bigstake in it. The fact that Pickering is risking so muchto find what’s supposed to be hidden here is pretty fairevidence that something’s buried on the place.”
“Possibly, but they’re giving you a lively boycott.Now where in the devil have you been?”
“Well,—” I began and hesitated. I had not mentionedMarian Devereux and this did not seem the timefor confidences of that sort.
He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it.
“Bah, these women! Under the terms of your reveredgrandfather’s will you have thrown away all your rights.It looks to me, as a member of the Irish bar in badstanding, as though you had delivered yourself up tothe enemy, so far as the legal situation is concerned.How does it strike you?”
“Of course I’ve forfeited my rights. But I don’tmean that any one shall know it yet a while.”
“My lad, don’t deceive yourself. Everybody roundhere will know it before night. You ran off, left yourwindow open invitingly, and two gentlemen who meditatedbreaking in found that they needn’t take the trouble.One came in through your own room, noting, ofcourse, your absence, let in his friend below, and toreup the place regrettably.”
“Yes, but how did you get here?—if you don’t mindtelling.”
“It’s a short story. That little chap from ScotlandYard, who annoyed me so much in New York and droveme to Mexico—for which may he dwell for ever in fierytorment—has never given up. I shook him off, though,at Indianapolis three days ago. I bought a ticket forPittsburg with him at my elbow. I suppose he thoughtthe chase was growing tame, and that the farther easthe could arrest me the nearer I should be to a Britishconsul and tide-water. I went ahead of him into thestation and out to the Pittsburg sleeper. I dropped mybag into my section—if that’s what they call it in youratrocious American language—looked out and saw himcoming along the platform. Just then the car began tomove,—they were shunting it about to attach a sleeperthat had been brought in from Louisville and my carriage,or whatever you call it, went skimming out ofthe sheds into a yard where everything seemed to bemost noisy and complex. I dropped off in the darkjust before they began to haul the carriage back. Along train of empty goods wagons was just pullingout and I threw my bag into a wagon and climbed afterit. We kept going for an hour or so until I was thoroughlylost, then I took advantage of a stop at a placethat seemed to be the end of terrestrial things, got outand started across country. I expressed my bag to youthe other day from a town that rejoiced in the cheeringname of Kokomo, just to get rid of it. I walked intoAnnandale about midnight, found this medieval marvelthrough the kindness of the station-master and was reconnoiteringwith my usual caution when I saw a gentlemanromantically entering through an open window.”
Larry paused to light a fresh cigarette.
“You always did have a way of arriving opportunely.Go on!”
“It pleased my fancy to follow him; and by the timeI had studied your diggings here a trifle, things beganto happen below. It sounded like a St. Patrick’sDay celebration in an Irish village, and I went down ata gallop to see if there was any chance of breaking in.Have you seen the room? Well,”—he gave severalturns to his right wrist, as though to test it,—“we allhad a jolly time there by the fireplace. Another chaphad got in somewhere, so there were two of them. Yourman—I suppose it’s your man—was defending himselfgallantly with a large thing of brass that looked likethe pipes of a grand organ—and I sailed in with a chair.My presence seemed to surprise the attacking party,who evidently thought I was you,—flattering, I mustsay, to me!”
“You undoubtedly saved Bates’ life and prevented therifling of the house. And after you had poured wateron Bates,—he’s the servant,—you came up here—”
“That’s the way of it.”
“You’re a brick, Larry Donovan. There’s only one ofyou; and now—”
“And now, John Glenarm, we’ve got to get down tobusiness,—or you must. As for me, after a few hoursof your enlivening society—”
“You don’t go a step until we go together,—no, bythe beard of the prophet! I’ve a fight on here and I’mgoing to win if I die in the struggle, and you’ve got tostay with me to the end.”
“But under the will you dare not take a boarder.”
“Of course I dare! That will’s as though it hadnever been as far as I’m concerned. My grandfathernever expected me to sit here alone and be murdered.John Marshall Glenarm wasn’t a fool exactly!”
“No, but a trifle queer, I should say. I don’t haveto tell you, old man, that this situation appeals to me.It’s my kind of a job. If it weren’t that the hounds areat my heels I’d like to stay with you, but you haveenough trouble on hands without opening the house toan attack by my enemies.”
“Stop talking about it. I don’t propose to be desertedby the only friend I have in the world when I’m upto my eyes in trouble. Let’s go down and get somecoffee.”
We found Bates trying to remove the evidences of thenight’s struggle. He had fastened a cold pack about hishead and limped slightly; otherwise he was the same—silent and inexplicable.
Daylight had not improved the appearance of theroom. Several hundred books lay scattered over thefloor, and the shelves which had held them were hackedand broken.
“Bates, if you can give us some coffee—? Let theroom go for the present.”
‘‘Yes, sir.”
“And Bates—”
He paused and Larry’s keen eyes were bent sharplyupon him.
“Mr. Donovan is a friend who will be with me forsome time. We’ll fix up his room later in the day”
He limped out, Larry’s eyes following him.
“What do you think of that fellow?” I asked.
Larry’s face wore a puzzled look.
“What do you call him,—Bates? He’s a plucky fellow.”
Larry picked up from the hearth the big candelabrumwith which Bates had defended himself. Itwas badly bent and twisted, and Larry grinned.
“The fellow who went out through the front doorprobably isn’t feeling very well to-day. Your man wasswinging this thing like a windmill.”
“I can’t understand it,” I muttered. “I can’t, forthe life of me, see why he should have given battle tothe enemy. They all belong to Pickering, and Bates isthe biggest rascal of the bunch.”
“Humph! we’ll consider that later. And would youmind telling me what kind of a tallow foundry this
is?I never saw so many candlesticks in my life. I seemto taste tallow. I had no letters from you, and I supposedyou were loafing quietly in a grim farm-house,dying of ennui, and here you are in an establishmentthat ought to be the imperial residence of an Eskimochief. Possibly you have crude petroleum for soup andwhipped salad-oil for dessert. I declare, a man livinghere ought to attain a high candle-power of luminosity.It’s perfectly immense.” He stared and laughed. “Andhidden treasure, and night attacks, and young virginsin the middle distance,—yes, I’d really like to stay awhile.”
As we ate breakfast I filled in gaps I had left in myhurried narrative, with relief that I can not describe fillingmy heart as I leaned again upon the sympathy ofan old and trusted friend.
As Bates came and went I marked Larry’s scrutiny ofthe man. I dismissed him as soon as possible that wemight talk freely.
“Take it up and down and all around, what do youthink of all this?” I asked.
Larry was silent for a moment; he was not given tocareless speech in personal matters.
“There’s more to it than frightening you off or gettingyour grandfather’s money. It’s my guess thatthere’s something in this house that somebody—Pickeringsupposedly—is very anxious to find.”
“Yes; I begin to think so. He could come in herelegally if it were merely a matter of searching for lostassets.”
“Yes; and whatever it is it must be well hidden. AsI remember, your grandfather died in June. You gota letter calling you home in October.”
“It was sent out blindly, with not one chance in ahundred that it would ever reach me.”
“To be sure. You were a wanderer on the face of theearth, and there was nobody in America to look afteryour interests. You may be sure that the place wasthoroughly ransacked while you were sailing home. I’llwager you the best dinner you ever ate that there’s moreat stake than your grandfather’s money. The situationis inspiring. I grow interested. I’m almost persuadedto linger.”