CHAPTER IX
THE SECOND VICTIM
The alterations at Merriton Towers were certainly a success, from thebuilder's point of view at any rate. White paint had helped to dispelsome of its gloominess, though there were those who said that the wholeplace was ruined thereby. However, it was certainly an improvement to beable to have windows that opened, and to look into rooms that beckonedyou with promises of cozy inglenooks, and plenty of brilliant sunshine.
Borkins looked upon these improvements with a censorious eye. He was oneof those who believed in "lettin' things be"; to whom innovation is acrime, and modernity nothing short of madness. To him the dignity of thehouse had gone. But when it came to Nigel installing a new staff ofservants, the good Borkins literally threw up his hands and cried aloudin anguish. He did not hold with frilled aprons, any more than he heldwith women assuming places that were not meant for them.
But if the maids annoyed Borkins, his patience reached its breaking pointwhen Merriton--paying a flying visit to town--returned in company with ashort, thickset person, who spoke with a harsh, cockney accent, and whomMerriton introduced as his "batman", "Whatever that might be," saidBorkins, holding forth to Dimmock, one of the under-grooms. James Collinssoon became a necessary part of the household machinery, a little cog infact upon which the great wheel of tragedy was soon to turn.
Within a week he was completely at home in his new surroundings. Collins,in fact, was the perfect "gentleman's servant" and thus he liked alwaysto think himself. Many a word he and Borkins had over their master'slikes and dislikes. But invariably Collins won out. While every otherservant in the place liked him and trusted him, the sight of his honest,red face and his ginger eyebrows was enough to make Borkins look like athundercloud.
The climax was reached one night in the autumn when the evening papersfailed to appear at their appointed time. Collins confronted Borkins withthe fact and got snubbed for his pains.
"'Ere you," he said--he hadn't much respect for Borkins and made noattempt to hide the fact--"what the dooce 'as become of his lordship'spypers? 'Ave _you_ bin 'avin' a squint at 'em, ole pieface? Jist likeyour bloomin' cheek!"
"Not so much of your impidence, Mr. Collins," retorted Borkins. "When youh'addresses a gentleman try to remember 'ow to speak to 'im. I've 'adnothink whatever to do with Sir Nigel's evenin' papers, and you know it.If they're late, well, wouldn't it be worth your while to go down to thestation and 'ave a gentle word or two with one of the officials there?"
"Oh well, then, old Fiddlefyce," retorted Collins, with a good-naturedgrin, "don't lose yer wool over it; you ain't got any ter spare. 'IsLordship's been a-arskin' fer 'em, and like as not they ain't turned up.Let's see what's the time? 'Arf-past eight." He shook his bullet-shapedhead. "Well, I'll be doin' as you say. Slap on me 'at and jacket and mykeoff ter the blinkin' stytion. What's the shortest w'y, Borkins, mebeauty?"
Borkins looked at him a moment, and his face went a dull brick colour.Then he smirked sarcastically.
"Like as not you're so brave you wouldn't mind goin' across the Fens," hesaid. "Them there flames wouldn't be scarin' such a 'ero as Mr. JamesCollins. Oh no! You'll find it a mile or so less than the three miles byroad. It's the shortest cut, but I don't recommend it. 'Owever, that lieswith you. I'll tell Sir Nigel where you're gone if 'e asks me, you may besure!"
"Orl right! Across the Fens is the shortest, you says. Well, I'll try itternight and see. You're right fer once. I ain't afraid. It tykes more'ntwiddley little bits er lights ter scare James Collins, I tells yer. Solong."
Borkins, standing at the window in the dining room and peering throughthe dusk at Collins' sturdy figure as it swung past him down the drive,bit his lip a moment, and made as if to go after him.
"No, I'll be danged if I do!" he said suddenly. "If 'e knows such a lot,well, let 'im take the risk. I warned 'im anyhow, so I've done my bit.The flames'll do the rest." And he laughed.
But James Collins did not come back, when he ought to have done, and theevening papers arrived before him, brought by the station-master's sonJacob. Jacob had seen nothing of Collins, and Merriton, who did not knowthat the man had gone on this errand, made no remark when the hours wentslowly by, and no sign of Collins appeared.
At eleven o'clock the household retired. Merriton, still ignorant of hisman's absence, went to bed and slept soundly. The first knowledge hereceived of Collins' absence was when Borkins appeared in his bedroom inthe morning.
"Where the deuce is Collins?" Merriton said pettishly, for he did notlike Borkins, and they both knew it.
"That's exactly what I 'ave been tryin' ter find out, sir," respondedBorkins, bravely. "'E 'asn't been back since last night, so far as Icould make out."
"_Last night?_" Merriton sat bolt upright in bed and ran his fingersthrough his hair. "What the dickens do you mean?"
"Collins went out last night, sir, to fetch your papers. Leastways thatwas what he said he was goin' for," responded Borkins patiently, "and sofar as I knows he 'asn't returned yet. Whether he dropped into a public'ouse on the way or not, I don't know, or whether he took the short cutto the station across the Fens isn't for me to say. But--'e 'asn't comeback yet, sir!"
Merriton looked anxious. Collins had a strong hold upon his master'sheart. He certainly wouldn't like anything to happen to him.
"You mean to say," he said sharply, "that Collins went out last night tofetch my papers from the station and was fool enough to take the shortcut across the Fens?"
"I warned him against doin' so," said Borkins, "since 'e said 'e'dprobably go that way. That no Frozen Flames was a-goin' ter frighten 'im,an'--an' 'is language was most offensive. But I've no doubt 'e went."
"Then why the devil didn't you tell me last night?" exclaimed Merritonangrily, jumping out of bed. "You knew the--the truth about Mr. Wynne'sdisappearance, and yet you deliberately let that man go out to his death.If anything's happened to James Collins, Borkins, I'll--I'll wring yourdamned neck. Understand?"
Borkins went a shade or two paler, and took a step backward.
"Sir Nigel, sir--I--"
"When did Collins go?"
"'Arf past eight, sir!" Borkins' voice trembled a little. "And believeme or not, sir, I did my best to persuade Collins from doin' such anextremely dangerous thing. I begged 'im not to think o' doin' it, butCollins is pig-'eaded, if you'll forgive the word, sir, and he was bentupon gettin' your papers. I swear, sir, I ain't 'ad anythin' ter do withit, and when 'e didn't come back last night before I went to bed I saidto meself, I said, 'Collins 'as dropped into a public 'ouse and made a--aass of hisself', I said. And thought no more about it, expectin' he'd bein later. But 'is bed 'asn't been slept in, and there 's no sign of 'imanywhere."
Merriton twisted round upon his heel and looked at the man keenly for amoment.
"I'm fond of Collins, Borkins," he said abruptly. "We've known each othera long time. I shouldn't like anything to happen to the chap while he'sin my service, that's all. Get out now and make enquiries in everydirection. Have Dimmock go down to the village. And ransack every publichouse round about. If you can't find any trace of him--" his lipstightened for a moment, "then I'll fetch in the police. I'll get thefinest detective in the land on this thing, I'll get Cleek himself if itcosts me every penny I possess, but I'll have him traced somehow. Thosedevilish flames are taking too heavy a toll. I've reached the end of mytether!"
He waved Borkins out with an imperious hand, and went on with hisdressing, his heart sick. What if Collins had met with the same fateas Dacre Wynne? What were those fiendish flames, anyhow, that mendisappeared completely, leaving neither sight nor sound? Surely therewas some brain clever enough to probe the mystery of them.
"If Collins doesn't turn up this morning," he told himself as he shavedwith a very unsteady hand, "I'll go straight up to London by the twelveo'clock train and straight to Scotland Yard. But I'll find him--damnit, I'll find him."
But no trace of James Collins could be found. He was gone--completely. Noone had
seen him, no one but Borkins had known of his probable journeyacross the Fens at night-time, and Borkins excused himself upon the pleathat Collins hadn't actually _said_ he was going that way. He had simplyvanished as Dacre Wynne had vanished, as Will Myers and all that longlist of others had vanished. Eaten up by the flames--and in TwentiethCentury England! But the fact remained. Dacre Wynne had disappeared, andnow James Collins had followed him. And a new flame shone among theothers, a newer, brighter flame than any before. Merriton saw it himself,that was the devilish part of it. His own eyes had seen the thing appear,just as he had seen it upon the night when Dacre Wynne had vanished. Buthe didn't shoot at it this time. Instead, he packed a small bag, ran overand said good-bye to 'Toinette and told her he was going to have a day intown, but told her nothing else. Then he took the twelve o'clock train totown. A taxi whisked him to Scotland Yard.