CHAPTER VII
THE SUMMONS
Cleek left that house of anger in a strange frame of mind, rather gladto be back again in his own sunny room at the Three Fishers, and awayfrom an influence which seemed somehow horribly malign. The pitchedbattle that had taken place between father and son--egged on by adesigning woman who did not mind to what depths she stooped so that herends were eventually reached, gave him an eery feeling. There wassomething venomous about the whole affair, something that reminded himof an asp about to strike. He could not shake that feeling from him. Thepremonition held firm hold of his faculties.
A walk with Dollops over the moors certainly acted as a refresher, forthe lad's ready humour had the true Cockney bite in it and he had seen,with his keen eyes, how the master he loved and reverenced was broodingunder the shadow of something he sensed although he could not see. Andso his comical faculties were put to good work. Until--tea-time atlength reached--Cleek returned to the Inn of the Three Fishers, a littleless clouded in heart and brain, and with some of the moody depressionshaken from him.
He spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening reading andthinking by the open window of his room, looking out now and then at thewhole massive structure of Aygon Castle, with its great gateway, abovewhich Rhea du Macduggan stood everlasting guard. Gad! anything mighthappen there--and the world be no wiser! It was an appalling thought atbest. What secrets had that place held in the past and never revealed tothe light of day? What secrets might it not hold in the future?
And those dungeons. The thing he had seen there.... And thathandkerchief--so obviously belonging to Ross Duggan, and which now layin his inner pocket. He fumbled for it and brought it out to the light,examining it minutely. Fine linen, finely monogrammed. Very obviouslythe handkerchief of an extravagant gentleman. But what on earth _he_should be doing down there, amidst _that_, was something which sent thegrim lines fleeting about Cleek's mouth and eyes. It couldn't be he--theson of a proud old house like this one! The thing seemed impossible. Andyet--there was the handkerchief to prove that fact; and then thiselectricity business, which obviously ate up a good many private funds.H'm. It would want close looking into, if nothing further proceeded withMiss Duggan's part of the affair.
For an hour or two he sat pondering and dreaming there, the book he hadcaught up absent-mindedly from the billiard-room book-case lying open inhis lap.
The dinner-gong sounding through that quiet house brought him quickly tohis feet, a sense of sharpened appetite lending pleasing colour to thethought of what the dining-hall afforded, for mine host believed insetting a good table, and his hospitality was by no means frugal.
Dollops was already standing by his table, expectant eye upon the trimmaid who waited upon them, for during this little sojourn in theHighlands Cleek had expressed a wish for the lad's company during meals,and old Fairnish had told his spouse that "Misthair Deland were an unco'queer pairrson tu wish the company of his mon wi' 'im at meal-time, butso lang as he paid his bill prampt, 'twere nought of hees business."
And that was why Dollops was waiting now with that hungry eye of hisupon the plate of steaming soup which the maid was bringing to thetable. Only his respect for the man who had raised him to his presentstatus kept him from dropping into his seat and gulping the stuff downstraightaway.
Cleek smiled as he saw the lad's eager eye.
"Sit down, sit down, Dollops, and set to," he said with a laugh, layinga hand upon the boy's sleeve with something of tenderness in thegesture. "Your eyes are like hard-boiled eggs, they're popping out ofyour head so. Hungry, I'll be bound."
"'Ungry--I means hungry, sir? ... starved's more like it!" gave backDollops between mouthfuls of hot soup. "Why, I'm that 'ungry mebackbone's well-nigh come rahnd to me front! Nuffink since tea--althoughI must say as I nabbed a roll from the kitchen table when the cookwasn't lookin', and there was a cold sossidge fairly talkin' ter me fromthe plate in the larder. And so, as there weren't no one around, I justwhistled to 'im, and he 'opped off his platter quite tame-like. But feranything else!..." The last spoonful went down with a gulp.
"Dollops, Dollops! You'll be eating the wake up at your own funeral, youyoung gourmand!" threw in Cleek laughingly. "You've a constitution likean ostrich. I'm sure, if you were actually starving, you'd manage tognaw an umbrella--spokes and all!... Heigho! This is a queer world,isn't it? Here's me sitting here in this little inn-place, on the top ofthe Highlands, with the heart of me wandering away in other places, andthe soul of me sometimes hungry for the sight of other worlds across thesea--to which I've closed the door of my own accord and shut the sightof their dear blessedness forever from me! And there's those people upat Aygon Castle. Bitter, cruel, hard to each other. Pulling this way andthat, until their hearts must break with the strain of the fray--andwith the whole structure of their dear inheritance forever with them, sothat they need never hunger and thirst for a sight of it as--as othersdo. Heigho! but it's a topsy-turvy, crazy sort of a world we live in,isn't it?"
Something in the tone of Cleek's voice caused Dollops instantly topause. Eyes wide, mouth open, face gone suddenly pale, he set down hisknife and fork and reaching a shaking hand across the table laid it uponCleek's.
"Guv'nor," he said, in a scared, hushed sort of voice, "you ain'ta-wishin' ter go back--to all them Maurevanian royalties, are yer? Wiv athrone an' a crahn and a bloomin' spectur in yer 'and? You ain'ta-pinin' fer the Crash Pots, I 'opes? For as sure as I know anyfink ofanybody, they'd never let sich folks as Mr. Narkom an'--an'--me comewithin twenty miles of yer. And you ain't--ain't wishin' ter l-lose us,are yer, sir? It would fair break my 'eart if I thought _that_."
Cleek put back his head and laughed, laughed heartily, with his eyeswet. There was a sob in the boy's voice as he spoke, and the look ofinjured worship in his eyes would have wrung tears from a stone. Cleekstopped laughing suddenly, and sat forward and looked straight at theboy.
"Dollops," he said quietly, "I wouldn't barter _this_ inheritance--ofLove--which the good Lord has given me, for all the thrones and'specturs' and 'crash-pots' that the world could hold. For truefriendship is the best inheritance of all. But there are times when aman must be allowed to go down into the deeps of his memory and take amaudlin joy in counting over the hidden pearls there. I've no doubt youdo it yourself, lad--and shed a tear in solitude for the days when youhad a mother to care for you, and you weren't just a frightened littlesinner of an orphan boy."
"An' that's where you're dead wrong, sir," gave back Dollops with avigorous nod of the head. "Fer I never does anyfink of the sort. Memuvver--Gawd 'elp 'er!--were a bruiser an' a footballer in one, an'there weren't an inch o' me poor little body which didn't 'ave a scoreof bruises upon it. As for me farver--well, I doesn't remember 'im, andno doubt it's a good fing, too.... No, sir, you've bin and gone andmissed the bull's eye this time. I ain't no Wistful Willie, I ain't.You've been Muvver and Farver and Big Bruvver and all the whole darnFambly ter me, an' if ever I finks o' the blinkin' parst, it's just thatI didn't live clean and strite an'--an' _decent_, so's I could be a bitmore worvy uv yer precious kindness.... Lord! listen ter me a-torkin'like a bloomin' sermonizer! But them's my sentiments--strite! An' solong as yer ain't wishin ter go back to--_them_----"
"No, I'm not wishing that at all, boy," said Cleek quietly, with an oddlittle smile. "So don't you worry your ginger head over such foolnotions as that. The day I want to get rid of you all--Miss Lorne,yourself, and Mr. Narkom--is the day that sees me in my grave. And thenI'll only be waiting to wring your hands across the Big Beyond. And ifyou ever mention royalties and 'specturs' and 'crash-pots' to me again,Dollops, I'll--I'll cut you out of my will.... Finished?"
"Yessir."
"Well, then, come along upstairs and smoke a weed with me. Unless you'vesomething better to do. I've need of a man's company to-night, for mymood's maudlin, and a chat over old times will straighten things out forme."
"_Rar_ver!" Then to himself: "Missin' Miss Ailsa, like any uvverbloomin' lovesick st
rain," thought Dollops to himself, with a shake ofthe head. "Well, orl I kin s'y is, Dollops me lad, it's a good thing youain't in love yerself. You love yer tummy better'n the gels--and afairer deal it is, too. Fer yer _can_ tell when you're proper fed up,and starve a bit in consequence. But the lydies!--well, they never letsyer leave 'em alone! 'E ain't 'ad no letter this mornin'--that's wot thetrouble is, bless 'is 'eart!"
So Dollops followed Cleek upstairs to his room, and in the shorttwilight of the summer evening sat with him, curled up on a cushion athis feet, and smoked and talked and gazed at the great Castle in frontof them, almost lost in the twilight mists, like the true little_gamin_ he was, until the lonesomeness had gone from Cleek's soul, andthe night had thrown her mantle over the sky.
Then:
"Time for you to be getting into your little 'downy', old chap," hesaid, with a stretch and a yawn and a smile down into the eager youngface that rested against his knee, as a dog might do, faithfulness inthe attitude. "Or we'll be having no salmon-fishing to-morrow, foryou'll be over-sleeping yourself, and the fish will have swum to otherwaters, getting tired of waiting for you. Cut along now, there's a goodboy."
"Orl right, Guv'nor. Thank yer, sir, for this--this rippin' fineevenin'. And fer lettin' me pertend I was for the moment, like, a realpal to yer. I shan't never ferget that. Good-night, sir, and pleasantdreams."
"Good-night, Dollops. Close the door softly behind you. There's an oldlady in the room beyond, and I fancy she's just gone off to bed. I'llsit here a few minutes longer, and then nip in between the sheetsmyself."
But the few minutes lengthened into an hour before Cleek, about to risefrom his chair by the open window to knock out the ashes of his pipeupon the sill, happened to glance up and out of it. Then he stopped of asudden, sucked in his breath, and stood stock-still, staring out infront of him as though he had gone suddenly mad.
For the darkness of that dark night had been cut suddenly by a ray ofred light swung to and fro several times from the particular bit ofdarkness which Cleek knew was Aygon Castle; extinguished; re-lit; sentswinging across the darkness again like an arc of crimson light; andwhen this was done for a third time, Cleek knew that it was a signal--asignal from Maud Duggan to him--a signal, too, which meant distress.Something had happened out there in that grim darkness beyond the rim ofhill and valley in that great, gaunt edifice of mediaeval stone,something so serious that she had signalled for him to come, as she saidshe would.
He drew out his spotlight, and sent it zigzagging in the direction ofthe red light, just to let her know she had been seen and understood.Then, swinging round swiftly, he caught up his dark overcoat, slippedhis arms into it, drew a cap low down over his head, and was off intothe shadows and pelting away down the narrow tortuous lane as fast ashis swift feet could carry him.