CHAPTER XXV
BESIEGED
It was nine o’clock. A thermometer on the terraceshowed the mercury clinging stubbornly to a point abovezero; but the still air was keen and stimulating, andthe sun argued for good cheer in a cloudless sky. Wehad swallowed some breakfast, though I believe no onehad manifested an appetite, and we were cheering ourselveswith the idlest talk possible. Stoddard, who hadbeen to the chapel for his usual seven o’clock service, wasdeep in the pocket Greek testament he always carried.
Bates ran in to report a summons at the outer wall,and Larry and I went together to answer it, sendingBates to keep watch toward the lake.
Our friend the sheriff, with a deputy, was outsidein a buggy. He stood up and talked to us over the wall.
“You gents understand that I’m only doing my duty.It’s an unpleasant business, but the court orders me toeject all trespassers on the premises, and I’ve got todo it.”
“The law is being used by an infamous scoundrel toprotect himself. I don’t intend to give in. We canhold out here for three months, if necessary, and I adviseyou to keep away and not be made a tool for a manlike Pickering.”
The sheriff listened respectfully, resting his arms ontop of the wall.
“You ought to understand, Mr. Glenarm, that I ain’tthe court; I’m the sheriff, and it’s not for me to passon these questions. I’ve got my orders and I’ve got toenforce ’em, and I hope you will not make it necessaryfor me to use violence. The judge said to me, ‘We deploreviolence in such cases.’ Those were his Honor’svery words.”
“You may give his Honor my compliments and tellhim that we are sorry not to see things his way, butthere are points involved in this business that he doesn’tknow anything about, and we, unfortunately, have notime to lay them before him.”
The sheriff’s seeming satisfaction with his positionon the wall and his disposition to parley had begun toarouse my suspicions, and Larry several times exclaimedimpatiently at the absurdity of discussing myaffairs with a person whom he insisted on calling a constable,to the sheriff’s evident annoyance. The officernow turned upon him.
“You, sir,—we’ve got our eye on you, and you’d bettercome along peaceable. Laurance Donovan—the descriptionfits you to a ‘t’.”
“You could buy a nice farm with that reward,couldn’t you—” began Larry, but at that moment Batesran toward us calling loudly.
“They’re coming across the lake, sir,” he reported,and instantly the sheriff’s head disappeared, and as weran toward the house we heard his horse pounding downthe road toward St. Agatha’s.
“The law be damned. They don’t intend to come inhere by the front door as a matter of law,” said Larry.“Pickering’s merely using the sheriff to give respectabilityto his manoeuvers for those notes and the restof it.”
It was no time for a discussion of motives. We ranacross the meadow past the water tower and through thewood down to the boat-house. Far out on the lake wesaw half a dozen men approaching the Glenarm grounds.They advanced steadily over the light snow that lay uponthe ice, one man slightly in advance and evidently theleader.
“It’s Morgan!” exclaimed Bates. “And there’s Ferguson.”
Larry chuckled and slapped his thigh.
“Observe that stocky little devil just behind the leader?He’s my friend from Scotland Yard. Lads! thisis really an international affair.”
“Bates, go back to the house and call at any sign ofattack,” I ordered. “The sheriff’s loose somewhere.”
“And Pickering is directing his forces from afar,”remarked Stoddard.
“I count ten men in Morgan’s line,” said Larry, “andthe sheriff and his deputy make two more. That’stwelve, not counting Pickering, that we know of on theother side.”
“Warn them away before they get much nearer,” suggestedStoddard. “We don’t want to hurt people ifwe can help it,”—and at this I went to the end of thepier. Morgan and his men were now quite near, andthere was no mistaking their intentions. Most of themcarried guns, the others revolvers and long ice-hooks.
“Morgan,” I called, holding up my hands for a truce,“we wish you no harm, but if you enter these groundsyou do so at your peril.”
“We’re all sworn deputy sheriffs,” called the caretakersmoothly. “We’ve got the law behind us.”
“That must be why you’re coming in the back way,”I replied.
The thick-set man whom Larry had identified as theEnglish detective now came closer and addressed me ina high key.
“You’re harboring a bad man, Mr. Glenarm. You’dbetter give him up. The American law supports me,and you’ll get yourself in trouble if you protect thatman. You may not understand, sir, that he’s a verydangerous character.”
“Thanks, Davidson!” called Larry. “You’d betterkeep out of this. You know I’m a bad man with theshillalah!”
“That you are, you blackguard!” yelled the officer,so spitefully that we all laughed.
I drew back to the boat-house.
“They are not going to kill anybody if they can helpit,” remarked Stoddard, “any more than we are. Evendeputy sheriffs are not turned loose to do murder, andthe Wabana County Court wouldn’t, if it hadn’t beenimposed on by Pickering, lend itself to a game likethis.”
“Now we’re in for it,” yelled Larry, and the twelvemen, in close order, came running across the ice towardthe shore.
“Open order, and fall back slowly toward the house,”I commanded. And we deployed from the boat-house,while the attacking party still clung together,—a strategicerror, as Larry assured us.
“Stay together, lads. Don’t separate; you’ll get lostif you do,” he yelled.
Stoddard bade him keep still, and we soon had ourhands full with a preliminary skirmish. Morgan’s lineadvanced warily. Davidson, the detective, seemed disgustedat Morgan’s tactics, openly abused the caretaker,and ran ahead of his column, revolver in hand,bearing down upon Larry, who held our center.
The Englishman’s haste was his undoing. The lightfall of snow a few days before had gathered in the littlehollows of the wood deceptively. The detective plungedinto one of these and fell sprawling on all fours,—acalamity that caused his comrades to pause uneasily.Larry was upon his enemy in a flash, wrenched his pistolaway and pulled the man to his feet.
“Ah, Davidson! There’s many a slip! Move, if youdare and I’ll plug you with your own gun.” And hestood behind the man, using him as a shield while Morganand the rest of the army hung near the boat-houseuncertainly.
“It’s the strategic intellect we’ve captured, General,”observed Larry to me. “You see the American invaderswere depending on British brains.”
Morgan now acted on the hint we had furnished himand sent his men out as skirmishers. The loss of thedetective had undoubtedly staggered the caretaker, andwe were slowly retreating toward the house, Larry withone hand on the collar of his prisoner and the othergrasping the revolver with which he poked the manfrequently in the ribs. We slowly continued our retreat,fearing a rush, which would have disposed of useasily enough if Morgan’s company had shown more ofa fighting spirit. Stoddard’s presence rather amazedthem, I think, and I saw that the invaders kept awayfrom his end of the line. We were far apart, stumblingover the snow-covered earth and calling to one anothernow and then that we might not become too widely separated.Davidson did not relish his capture by the manhe had followed across the ocean, and he attempted onceto roar a command to Morgan.
“Try it again,” I heard Larry admonish him, “trythat once more, and The Sod, God bless it! will neverfeel the delicate imprint of your web-feet again.”
He turned the man about and rushed him toward thehouse, the revolver still serving as a prod. His speedgave heart to the wary invaders immediately behind himand two fellows urged and led by Morgan charged ourline at a smart pace.
“Bolt for the front door,” I called to Larry, and Stoddardand I closed in after him to guard his retreat.
“They’re not shooting,” called
Stoddard. “You maybe sure they’ve had their orders to capture the housewith as little row as possible.”
We were now nearing the edge of the wood, with theopen meadow and water-tower at our backs, while Larrywas making good time toward the house.
“Let’s meet them here,” shouted Stoddard.
Morgan was coming up with a club in his hand, makingdirectly for me, two men at his heels, and the restveering off toward the wall of St. Agatha’s.
“Watch the house,” I yelled to the chaplain; andthen, on the edge of the wood Morgan came at me furiously,swinging his club over his head, and in a momentwe were fencing away at a merry rate. We both hadrevolvers strapped to our waists, but I had no intentionof drawing mine unless in extremity. At my rightStoddard was busy keeping off Morgan’s personalguard, who seemed reluctant to close with the clergyman.
I have been, in my day, something of a fencer, andmy knowledge of the foils stood me in good stead now.With a tremendous thwack I knocked Morgan’s clubflying over the snow, and, as we grappled, Bates yelledfrom the house. I quickly found that Morgan’s woundedarm was still tender. He flinched at the first grapple,and his anger got the better of his judgment. Wekicked up the snow at a great rate as we feinted anddragged each other about. He caught hold of my beltwith one hand and with a great wrench nearly draggedme from my feet, but I pinioned his arms and benthim backward, then, by a trick Larry had taught me,flung him upon his side. It is not, I confess, a prettybusiness, matching your brute strength against that ofa fellow man, and as I cast myself upon him and felthis hard-blown breath on my face, I hated myself morethan I hated him for engaging in so ignoble a contest.
Bates continued to call from the house.
“Come on at any cost,” shouted Stoddard, puttinghimself between me and the men who were flying toMorgan’s aid.
I sprang away from my adversary, snatching his revolver,and ran toward the house, Stoddard close behind,but keeping himself well between me and the men whowere now after us in full cry.
“Shoot, you fools, shoot!” howled Morgan, and as wereached the open meadow and ran for the house a shot-gunroared back of us and buckshot snapped and rattledon the stone of the water tower.
“There’s the sheriff,” called Stoddard behind me.
The officer of the law and his deputy ran into thepark from the gate of St. Agatha’s, while the rest ofMorgan’s party were skirting the wall to join them.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” yelled Morgan, and I felt Stoddardpause in his gigantic stride to throw himself betweenme and the pursuers.
“Sprint for it hot,” he called very coolly, as thoughhe were coaching me in a contest of the most amiablesort imaginable.
“Get away from those guns,” I panted, angered bythe very generosity of his defense.
“Feint for the front entrance and then run for theterrace and the library-door,” he commanded, as wecrossed the little ravine bridge. “They’ve got us headedoff.”
Twice the guns boomed behind us, and twice I sawshot cut into the snow about me.
“I’m all right,” called Stoddard reassuringly, stillat my back. “They’re not a bit anxious to kill me.”
I was at the top of my speed now, but the clergymankept close at my heels. I was blowing hard, but hemade equal time with perfect ease.
The sheriff was bawling orders to his forces, whoawaited us before the front door. Bates and Larry werenot visible, but I had every confidence that the Irishmanwould reappear in the fight at the earliest momentpossible. Bates, too, was to be reckoned with, and thefinal struggle, if it came in the house itself, might notbe so unequal, providing we knew the full strengthof the enemy.
“Now for the sheriff—here we go!” cried Stoddard—beside me—and we were close to the fringe of trees thatshielded the entrance. Then off we veered suddenly tothe left, close upon the terrace, where one of the Frenchwindows was thrown open and Larry and Bates steppedout, urging us on with lusty cries.
They caught us by the arms and dragged us overwhere the balustrade was lowest, and we crowdedthrough the door and slammed it. As Bates snappedthe bolts Morgan’s party discharged its combined artilleryand the sheriff began a great clatter at the frontdoor.
“Gentlemen, we’re in a state of siege,” observedLarry, filling his pipe.
Shot pattered on the wails and several panes of glasscracked in the French windows.
“All’s tight below, sir,” reported Bates. “I thoughtit best to leave the tunnel trap open for our own use.Those fellows won’t come in that way,—it’s too muchlike a blind alley.”
“Where’s your prisoner, Larry?”
“Potato cellar, quite comfortable, thanks!”
It was ten o’clock and the besiegers suddenly withdrewa short distance for parley among themselves. Outsidethe sun shone brightly; and the sky was never bluer.In this moment of respite, while we made ready forwhat further the day might bring forth, I climbed upto the finished tower to make sure we knew the enemy’sfull strength. I could see over the tree-tops, beyond thechapel tower, the roofs of St. Agatha’s. There, at least,was peace. And in that moment, looking over the blackwood, with the snow lying upon the ice of the lake whiteand gleaming under the sun, I felt unutterably lonelyand heart-sick, and tired of strife. It seemed a thousandyears ago that I had walked and talked with thechild Olivia; and ten thousand years more since thegirl in gray at the Annandale station had wakened inme a higher aim, and quickened a better impulse than Ihad ever known.
Larry roared my name through the lower floors. Iwent down with no wish in my heart but to even matterswith Pickering and be done with my grandfather’slegacy for ever.
“The sheriff and Morgan have gone back toward thelake,” reported Larry.
“They’ve gone to consult their chief,” I said. “Iwish Pickering would lead his own battalions. It wouldgive social prestige to the fight.”
“Bah, these women!” And Larry tore the cornerfrom a cartridge box.
Stoddard, with a pile of clubs within reach, lay onhis back on the long leather couch, placidly reading hisGreek testament. Bates, for the first time since my arrival,seemed really nervous and anxious. He pulled asilver watch from his pocket several times, something Ihad never seen him do before. He leaned against thetable, looking strangely tired and worn, and I saw himstart nervously as he felt Larry’s eyes on him.
“I think, sir, I’d better take another look at the outergates,” he remarked to me quite respectfully.
His disturbed air aroused my old antagonism. Washe playing double in the matter? Did he seek now anexcuse for conveying some message to the enemy?
“You’ll stay where you are,” I said sharply, and Ifound myself restlessly fingering my revolver.
“Very good, sir,”—and the hurt look in his eyestouched me.
“Bates is all right,” Larry declared, with an emphasisthat was meant to rebuke me.