CHAPTER VII
A GARDEN OF TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS
Cleek made not a single sound. A curious, intense, half-frightenedexpression had settled down over his face. He walked on with brows knitand eyes fixed on the road, and when Overton, impressed by his silence,looked round at him, he saw that his lower lip was pushed outward beyondthe upper one, and that the pipe he had taken out and refilled hung fromthe corner of his mouth still unlighted.
"It was a shocking experience, Mr. Headland," Overton said, fetching adeep breath.
"Must have been," admitted Cleek, without looking up. "You're puttingsome new ideas into my head, Mr. Overton. If it had been one of thevillagers, or even a servant from the Castle--anybody but _you_! H'm!Wot happened afterward?"
"When I came to I was lying on my back in the road. The wind had diedutterly away, the trees were standing motionless again, but there was acurious sound as of wheels passing and repassing me at a furious rate.There was, however, not a moving thing in sight, and as the moon wasagain shining brightly I could see quite clearly. Nevertheless,frightened as I was--and I confess that I _was_ frightened, Mr.Headland, horribly so--I struck several matches and examined the surfaceof the road thoroughly."
"Why?"
"I had heard of those phantom wheels that were said to rush about thevillage by night, but this was my first personal experience with them.To judge by the sound alone, I should have declared that vehicles onrubber tires were scudding past me at the rate of five or six a minuteand almost within touching distance. When I struck those matches andlooked at the white dust of the road, there was nothing on it but theprints of my own feet and a shapeless mark where I had fallen. Thewheels, however, were still speeding by in an unbroken stream oftraffic. I turned tail and ran as I haven't run since I was a boy, and Inever slackened pace either, until I was safe inside the Lodge and thedoor bolted behind me. If I had had a bit of pluck just then, I shouldhave faced the dark avenue up to the Castle and told about the affair. Iwish now that I had. It would have saved that poor chap's life."
"Maybe, but you can't be sure of it, Mr. Overton. He was a daredevilsort from what I've heard, and you can't do much with them kind of chapswhen they take a notion in their heads."
"Possibly not. Still, I might have tried. I shall never be quite ableto forgive myself for being such a coward. But I was absolutely in ablue funk, and wouldn't have faced that long walk up the Oak Avenue forthe best thousand pounds I ever saw."
"Say anything to the duke about it?"
"No. I was going to do so, but this morning, when poor Davis's body wasfound, His Grace was in something so very like a panic over the horribleturn the abominable affair had taken, that I hadn't the heart to harrowup his feelings still further--particularly as he was determined ongoing up to town and putting the matter into the hands of Scotland Yardat once. I shall do so, of course, when he's calmer. It is no use makingmatters worse than they are. It is bad enough to feel that you have tocope with natural forces without dragging supernatural ones into it. Andthere _is_ some supernatural force connected with it, Mr. Headland--I'mconvinced of that now. Human beings may engineer a plot to haunt avillage for some purpose; may even brain a man and spirit away a childto keep what they are up to from being found out--but they can't makechurch bells ring without hands, nor wheels fly through dust withoutleaving traces. Nor can they produce that monstrous Thing which I sawwith my own eyes last night."
"Well, I'll own it's got a devilish queer look, Mr. Overton," admittedCleek, gravely. "And, as I said before, if it was anybody but alevel-headed gent like you, I should think it was, maybe, a case of theD.T.'s coming on. Still, of course, you know, they can do wonderfulthings these days with electricity and flying machines--and Solinski'sno fool. Besides, the Cement Company's got the money to spend if itwants to set about things properly and means to have a tract of landthat it needs. So, of course----Geraniums! Geraniums, fuchsias,delphiniums, and lilies, or I'm a Dutchman!"
This remark had been rapped out so suddenly and with such vehemence, andwas so utterly foreign to the subject under discussion, that Mr. Overtonlooked round at Cleek in absolute bewilderment.
By this time the walk from the station had brought them abreast of thewestern boundaries of the Castle domain, and a rise in the road gave aview of part of its splendid grounds. Beyond a low wall stretched anexpanse of lawn, green, close-clipped, level as a billiard table; on theright there was the gleam of a water garden, the blaze of a rose-ladenpergola, and the snow of swans' wings; on the left, two straw-thatchedcottages and the rich green of a clipped yew hedge shutting in anenclosure that glowed with a myriad blossoming flowers.
Mr. Overton, following the direction of Cleek's eyes, looked round andsaw that they were fixed upon that glorious garden.
"Oh, I see what you mean," he said, with a smile of suddenunderstanding. "Old Hurdon's flowers. Fine, aren't they?"
"Something more than fine from what I can see of 'em at this distance.They will be 'Pollacks' and 'Paul Crampels' them geraniums, if I knowanything about it. Do a bit in that line myself at home."
"I shouldn't have thought it," replied Overton, rather abruptly; thenhastened to amend his blunder by adding discreetly, "I should havesupposed that the business of Scotland Yard would leave you so littletime. But possibly you have 'off days' and little opportunities of thatkind."
"Something of that sort. I've always sort of prided myself on my littlebit, but it isn't a patch on that show, I can tell you. How would it beif we slipped over the wall and had a look at 'em a bit closer, Mr.Overton? You being who you are, the gardeners wouldn't say nothing, Ireckon."
"Yes, I suppose it will be all right if you like. That will be Mrs.Hurdon herself that's working in the garden. Come along."
They swung over the low boundary wall into the Castle grounds, andwalked directly toward the cottages, Mr. Overton flinging a reassuring,"That's all right, Johnston, the gentlemen are with me," to a protestinggardener who came running across the lawn.
Cleek observed, however, that, although the gardener heard theland-steward's voice clearly enough, and went about his business atonce, the woman in the radiant garden of the cottage did not so much aslook up.
"Old lady's something after the style of my mate here, ain't she--a bitdeaf?" he observed.
"Yes, a little. That is one reason why she never is worried by theringing of the bells."
"I see. And the old man--wot about him? He deaf, too?"
"Oh, dear no. Ears as sharp as a badger's. He is a very strong-minded,practical, level-headed old chap, without a grain of superstition inhim. He declares that he has never in all his life found soil so fertileor a garden that gives such good return for his work as that one, and hewouldn't give the place up if ghosts danced round the house all night indozens."
"Oh, so that's why they didn't get out and chuck the place when themischief began, is it? I was wondering. One deaf and the other with hishead screwed on the right way. Old gent must have a power o' confidencein his missus, Mr. Overton, to let her go messing about with his plantsand him not there. Blowed if I'd let mine do it--no fear."
"I don't fancy that Hurdon would either, if he could help it. He's asfussy a horticulturist as any," said Overton, with an amused laugh,"and, in an ordinary way, it would be as much as anybody's life wasworth to touch a single one of his plants. Unfortunately, however, theold chap had a slight accident the day before yesterday. Fell down thestairs and strained his back. It will probably keep him laid up for thenext five or six days; and, as his garden is his hobby, I suppose he hassent the old lady out to attend to it. I'm told, too, that she's as wellup in garden matters as he."
"Is she now?" commented Cleek with a casualness which masked an emotionof a totally different character; for he observed, as he drew nearer,that the good lady was in the act of inserting a blossoming begonia intoa nice round hole which she had scooped out from one of the beds withher trowel, and that there was an empty flower pot and a fullwatering-can standing on the ti
led path beside her.
Nor did his observations cease there. His eye, seeing while it seemednot to see, detected dotted here and there about the crowded flower bedsfuchsias and geraniums whose foliage was of that clear, rich, glossygreen which betokens plants fresh bought from a greenhouse and whosegeneral appearance indicated that they had never before been exposed tothe rigours of the open and the dust from a near-by road.
He looked round to see if there was any greenhouse attached to thecottage garden, or any glass frame of any sort from whose shelter thesespeckless plants might have come. There was none. The garden was simplya rectangle of brilliant bloom cut through the middle by a red-tiledfootpath--a glowing, gorgeous spot of beauty, blazing in the sunshine.
When he came close enough to lean over the low hedge with Mr. Overton,however, and to see what that hedge had hidden heretofore, he observedthat just below him there was a little heap of broken pots and witheredplants lying, waiting to be removed. Drooping fuchsias and yellowinggeraniums they were with the original ball of earth from a florist'spots still clinging to their dry roots.
Here it was that a flash of memory brought back to Mr. Narkom thatmoment on the stairs at the Carlton and a recollection of what had beensaid. If there were geraniums and fuchsias much would depend upon it,Cleek had murmured. And now here were geraniums and fuchsias in dozens!
He twitched an inquiring glance at Cleek; but Cleek was looking at thedying plants, not at the thriving ones, and the curious one-sided smilepeculiar to him was looping up his cheek.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hurdon," called out the land-steward, leaning overboth the low hedge and the stone wall it screened and shouting acrossthe garden to the woman who had never once looked up during the wholeperiod of their approach.
She did now, however.
"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Overton, sir," she said, rising instantly andbrushing down her gardening apron with conspicuous haste as she did so.She displayed as she got on her feet a figure of grenadier-likeproportions. "And how will you be doing this fine weather, sir?"
"Very well indeed, Mrs. Hurdon, thank you. And how is the good mancoming on?"
"Middling, sir, middling. The pain's a bit less, but he's uncommonstiff, poor dear. Can't bend to so much as pick up a pin!"
"Poor old chap! Too bad he can't come out. I've a gentleman here whotakes an interest in gardening, and I'm sure he and Mr. Hurdon wouldenjoy a few words on a subject so agreeable to both."
"Ah! that he would, yes, indeed! Talk flowers to Joshua, Mr. Overton,sir, and he'll listen to you by the hour."
"And here, evidently, is a kindred spirit. Mr. Headland was so struckwith the beauty of your garden that nothing would do him but to comeover and have a good look at it. You will be pleased to hear that hecalls this as fine a display of the kind as he has ever seen."
"Doo-ee, now? Well, I'm sure that's very nice of him. We do take a pridein our garden, sir, and that's a fact."
During all this Cleek had said nothing--had not even so much as glancedat Mrs. Hurdon a second time after she rose to her feet. He seemed to bewholly absorbed in contemplating the beauty of the flowers, and, withhis arms folded on the top of the wall, and his pipe in his mouth, wasgiving them his entire attention. It had occurred to him, however, thatto be owned by one so erect, so broad-shouldered, and so seeminglyvirile, Mrs. Hurdon's voice was singularly thin and high-pitched, andhad the quavering, cracked quality of eighty rather than that whichusually goes with the appearance of fifty-five.
"I'm struck most with them Paul Crampels of yours, ma'am," he declared,breaking silence suddenly, and looking up. "Never saw a finer lot in allmy life. Would you mind telling me where your husband got them?"
At the first word he knew, from the blank expression which came into herface, that what he had said was Choctaw to her--that she did not know aPaul Crampel from a Pollock, and hastened to land her still deeper intothe mire by seeming to give a hint.
"Them with the white and scarlet bells is the best I ever see."
"Yes, they are fine, aren't they now?" she said, her face clearing, as,guided by his gesture, she looked in the direction of the plants bearingblooms of that description. "No; I don't know where he got them, sir.But it will be from somewhere in England, of course--he says he don'thold with them foreign seeds."
"Doesn't know a fuchsia from a geranium!" was Cleek's unspoken comment."Doesn't even know whether they are propagated from cutting or fromseed." Aloud, however, he simply declared, "No more do I, ma'am--that'swhere me and him agrees. All the same, though, I would like to knowwhere he got that particular lot. You ask him for me, will you? And youcan tell me some time when I drop round this way again."
"With pleasure, sir," said she. "Going, are you, Mr. Overton, sir?"
Evidently Mr. Overton was, but Cleek delayed the departure ratherunexpectedly. On the top of the wall a seed had found lodgment, and wasrooted between the stones. He caught hold of it suddenly, and pulled itup roots and all.
"Here's something your husband will be interested in, ma'am, I know,"said he. "Hold your apron--catch! Don't let it get bruised."
With that he swung the plant forward, threw it to her, and she, catchingup the corners of her apron, received it therein.
"Well, now, I never! To think of it growing up there, and me nevernoticing such a beautiful thing before! Oh, thanky, sir, thanky. Joshua_will_ be pleased!"
Then she took up the plant and looked at its fuzzy little yellowblossoms, and let her apron fall into place again.
But not before Cleek had remarked the fact that the skirt it covered wasbaggy and very badly smudged in the neighbourhood of the good lady'sknees, and that the smudges bore a curious resemblance to dried mustard.
The smile went up his cheek again.