CHAPTER XXI
PICKERING SERVES NOTICE
The next morning Bates placed a letter postmarkedCincinnati at my plate. I opened and read it aloud toLarry: On Board the Heloise
December 25, 1901.John Glenarm, Esq., Glenarm House, Annandale, Wabana Co., Indiana: DEAR SIR—I have just learned from what I believe tobe a trustworthy source that you have already violatedthe terms of the agreement under which you entered intoresidence on the property near Annandale, known asGlenarm House. The provisions of the will of John MarshallGlenarm are plain and unequivocal, as you undoubtedlyunderstood when you accepted them, and your absence,not only from the estate itself, but from WabanaCounty, violates beyond question your right to inherit. I, as executor, therefore demand that you at once vacatesaid property, leaving it in as good condition as whenreceived by you. Very truly yours, Arthur Pickering, Executor of the Estate of John Marshall Glenarm.
“Very truly the devil’s,” growled Larry, snappinghis cigarette case viciously.
“How did he find out?” I asked lamely, but my heartsank like lead. Had Marian Devereux told him! Howelse could he know?
“Probably from the stars,—the whole universe undoubtedlysaw you skipping off to meet your lady-love.Bah, these women!”
“Tut! They don’t all marry the sons of brewers,”I retorted. “You assured me once, while your affairwith that Irish girl was on, that the short upper lipmade Heaven seem possible, but unnecessary; then thenext thing I knew she had shaken you for the bloatedmasher. Take that for your impertinence. But perhapsit was Bates?”
I did not wait for an answer. I was not in a moodfor reflection or nice distinctions. The man came injust then with a fresh plate of toast.
“Bates, Mr. Pickering has learned that I was awayfrom the house on the night of the attack, and I’m orderedoff for having broken my agreement to stay here.How do you suppose he heard of it so promptly?”
“From Morgan, quite possibly. I have a letter fromMr. Pickering myself this morning. Just a moment,sir.”
He placed before me a note bearing the same date asmy own. It was a sharp rebuke of Bates for his failureto report my absence, and he was ordered to prepare toleave on the first of February. “Close your accounts atthe shopkeepers’ and I will audit your bills on my arrival.”
The tone was peremptory and contemptuous. Bateshad failed to satisfy Pickering and was flung off like asmoked-out cigar.
“How much had he allowed you for expenses, Bates?”
He met my gaze imperturbably.
“He paid me fifty dollars a month as wages, sir, andI was allowed seventy-five for other expenses.”
“But you didn’t buy English pheasants and champagneon that allowance!”
He was carrying away the coffee tray and his eyeswandered to the windows.
“Not quite, sir. You see—”
“But I don’t see!”
“It had occurred to me that as Mr. Pickering’s allowancewasn’t what you might call generous it was betterto augment it—Well, sir, I took the liberty of advancinga trifle, as you might say, to the estate. Yourgrandfather would not have had you starve, sir.”
He left hurriedly, as though to escape from the consequencesof his words, and when I came to myselfLarry was gloomily invoking his strange Irish gods.
“Larry Donovan, I’ve been tempted to kill that fellowa dozen times! This thing is too damned complicatedfor me. I wish my lamented grandfather had leftme something easy. To think of it—that fellow, aftermy treatment of him—my cursing and abusing himsince I came here! Great Scott, man, I’ve been enjoyinghis bounty, I’ve been living on his money! Andall the time he’s been trusting in me, just because ofhis dog-like devotion to my grandfather’s memory.Lord, I can’t face the fellow again!”
“As I have said before, you’re rather lacking at timesin perspicacity. Your intelligence is marred by largeopaque spots. Now that there’s a woman in the caseyou’re less sane than ever. Bah, these women! Andnow we’ve got to go to work.”
Bah, these women! My own heart caught the words.I was enraged and bitter. No wonder she had beenanxious for me to avoid Pickering after daring me tofollow her!
We called a council of war for that night that wemight view matters in the light of Pickering’s letter.His assuredness in ordering me to leave made promptand decisive action necessary on my part. I summonedStoddard to our conference, feeling confident of hisfriendliness.
“Of course,” said the broad-shouldered chaplain, “ifyou could show that your absence was on business ofvery grave importance, the courts might construe inthat you had not really violated the will.”
Larry looked at the ceiling and blew rings of smokelanguidly. I had not disclosed to either of them thecause of my absence. On such a matter I knew I shouldget precious little sympathy from Larry, and I had,moreover, a feeling that I could not discuss MarianDevereux with any one; I even shrank from mentioningher name, though it rang like the call of bugles inmy blood.
She was always before me,—the charmed spirit ofyouth, linked to every foot of the earth, every gleam ofthe sun upon the ice-bound lake, every glory of the wintersunset. All the good impulses I had ever stifledwere quickened to life by the thought of her. Amid theday’s perplexities I started sometimes, thinking I heardher voice, her girlish laughter, or saw her again comingtoward me down the stairs, or holding against the lighther fan with its golden butterflies. I really knew solittle of her; I could associate her with no home, onlywith that last fling of the autumn upon the lake, thesnow-driven woodland, that twilight hour at the organin the chapel, those stolen moments at the Armstrongs’.I resented the pressure of the hour’s affairs, and chafedat the necessity for talking of my perplexities with thegood friends who were there to help. I wished to bealone, to yield to the sweet mood that the thought of herbrought me. The doubt that crept through my mindas to any possibility of connivance between her andPickering was as vague and fleeting as the shadow of aswallow’s wing on a sunny meadow.
“You don’t intend fighting the fact of your absence,do you?” demanded Larry, after a long silence.
“Of course not!” I replied quietly. “Pickering wasright on my heels, and my absence was known to hismen here. And it would not be square to my grandfather,—who never harmed a flea, may his soul rest inblessed peace!—to lie about it. They might nail me forperjury besides.”
“Then the quicker we get ready for a siege the better.As I understand your attitude, you don’t propose tomove out until you’ve found where the siller’s hidden.Being a gallant gentleman and of a forgiving nature,you want to be sure that the lady who is now entitled toit gets all there is coming to her, and as you don’t trustthe executor, any further than a true Irishman trusts aBritish prime minister’s promise, you’re going to standby to watch the boodle counted. Is that a correct analysisof your intentions?”
“That’s as near one of my ideas as you’re likely toget, Larry Donovan!”
“And if he comes with the authorities,—the sheriffand that sort of thing,—we must prepare for such anemergency,” interposed the chaplain.
“So much the worse for the sheriff and the rest ofthem!” I declared.
“Spoken like a man of spirit. And now we’d betterstock up at once, in case we should be shut off from oursource of supplies. This is a lonely place here; eventhe school is a remote neighbor. Better let Bates raidthe village shops to-morrow. I’ve tried being hungry,and I don’t care to repeat the experience.”
And Larry reached for the tobacco jar.
“I can’t imagine, I really can’t believe,” began thechaplain, “that Miss Devereux will want to be broughtinto this estate matter in any way. In fact, I have heardSister Theresa say as much. I suppose there’s no wayof preventing a man from leaving his property to ayoung woman, who has no claim on him,—who doesn’twant anything from him.”
“Bah, these women! People don’t throw
legacies tothe birds these days. Of course she’ll take it.”
Then his eyes widened and met mine in a gaze thatreflected the mystification and wonder that struck bothof us. Stoddard turned from the fire suddenly:
“What’s that? There’s some one up stairs!”
Larry was already running toward the hall, and Iheard him springing up the steps like a cat, while Stoddardand I followed.
“Where’s Bates?” demanded the chaplain.
“I’ll thank you for the answer,” I replied.
Larry stood at the top of the staircase, holding acandle at arm’s length in front of him, staring about.
We could hear quite distinctly some one walkingon a stairway; the sounds were unmistakable, just asI had heard them on several previous occasions, withoutever being able to trace their source.
The noise ceased suddenly, leaving us with no hint ofits whereabouts.
I went directly to the rear of the house and foundBates putting the dishes away in the pantry.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
“Here, sir; I have been clearing up the dinner things,Mr. Glenarm. Is there anything the matter, sir?”
“Nothing.”
I joined the others in the library.
“Why didn’t you tell me this feudal imitation washaunted?” asked Larry, in a grieved tone. “All it neededwas a cheerful ghost, and now I believe it lacks absolutelynothing. I’m increasingly glad I came. Howoften does it walk?”
“It’s not on a schedule. Just now it’s the wind inthe tower probably; the wind plays queer pranks upthere sometimes.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, Glenarm,” saidStoddard. “It’s as still outside as a country graveyard.”
“Only the slaugh sidhe, the people of the faery hills,the cheerfulest ghosts in the world,” said Larry. “Youliteral Saxons can’t grasp the idea, of course.”
But there was substance enough in our dangers withoutpursuing shadows. Certain things were plannedthat night. We determined to exercise every precautionto prevent a surprise from without, and we resolvedupon a new and systematic sounding of walls and floors,taking our clue from the efforts made by Morgan andhis ally to find hiding-places by this process. Pickeringwould undoubtedly arrive shortly, and we wished toanticipate his movements as far as possible.
We resolved, too, upon a day patrol of the groundsand a night guard. The suggestion came, I believe,from Stoddard, whose interest in my affairs was onlyequaled by the fertility of his suggestions. One of usshould remain abroad at night, ready to sound the alarmin case of attack. Bates should take his turn with therest—Stoddard insisted on it.
Within two days we were, as Larry expressed it, on awar footing. We added a couple of shot-guns and severalrevolvers to my own arsenal, and piled the librarytable with cartridge boxes. Bates, acting as quarter-master,brought a couple of wagon-loads of provisions.Stoddard assembled a remarkable collection of heavysticks; he had more confidence in them, he said, than ingunpowder, and, moreover, he explained, a priest mightnot with propriety bear arms.
It was a cheerful company of conspirators that nowgathered around the big hearth. Larry, always restless,preferred to stand at one side, an elbow on themantel-shelf, pipe in mouth; and Stoddard sought thebiggest chair,—and filled it. He and Larry understoodeach other at once, and Larry’s stories, ranging in subjectfrom undergraduate experiences at Dublin to adventuresin Africa and always including endless conflictswith the Irish constabulary, delighted the big boyishclergyman.
Often, at some one’s suggestion of a new idea, we ranoff to explore the house again in search of the key to theGlenarm riddle, and always we came back to the librarywith that riddle still unsolved.