Storm Music (1934) (15 page)

As I turned to follow his gaze Sabre leaped out of the beech wood and over the brook.

For a moment the great dog nosed me, moving his tail, and then, before I could think, he was gone the way he had come.

I was just in time to see Sabre pass over a shoulder and flash out of view. Heavily I made for the spot. Somewhere beyond his point of disappearance Helena Yorick was moving, looking for me.

I dreaded the interview. I dreaded the useless inquest which she and I were to hold. What did the cause of death matter? The thing was dead.

As I saw her she waved, and I answered. Then with one consent we began to go down to the valley that lay between.

The day was yet hot, and the cool of the glen was refreshing beyond compare.

Helena was regarding me straightly. "Is this your greeting, John?" I stood very still.

"Yes," I said. "I'm sorry."

I pulled out the note she had written and looked her full in the eyes.

"I know," she said. "I did it because I loved you."

I tore the note to pieces and let them fall.

"You've done that to my faith," I said.

"But I only pretended John, to save your life."

"I know, I know," I said. "And I'm— much obliged. But I can't get as far as your motive. If I hadn't been mad about you, you couldn't have had me on. Even so, I jibbed at your tale. And so you used our communion to get you home. We'd breathed the same breath, you and I, and you invoked that— that rubric to bring me up to the scratch."

Helena lifted her head.

"And so I'm damned," she said.

"I shouldn't think so," I said helplessly. "But it means we speak different tongues. Oh, can't you see what I mean? I thought it was I that induced the light in your eyes, but now you've shown me that you can switch it on."

"Is it any good my saying I can't? That when it came it was you that brought it there?"

"Helena," I said, "we can't argue. Our words have got different values. Love, light, faith— these words mean one thing to me, and another to you. I can't define love, but—"

"I can," said Helena, quietly.

In desperation I put my hands over my eyes.

"Look here." I said. "If you like to think that I've weighed this wretched business, and decided to turn you down, then you must think it. I can only tell you you're wrong. I haven't weighed it. I've never decided a thing. When Geoffrey gave me that note, something inside me died. I think it was the power of caring ... I'm awfully sorry— I suppose I'm built that way, but it isn't my fault."

"And this last week ... the times that we've spent together, on the road, in the forest, and—and elsewhere ... last night and the night before ... all these things mean nothing? Their memory leaves you cold?"

I nodded miserably.

At last she lifted her head.

"I CAN still care," she said slowly. "I have the power of being sorry — or glad. And I'm glad this has happened— thankful, and that's the truth. It's a jolt in a way, of course; but although we don't speak the same tongue, I think you'll get what I mean. It's very much better that this should have happened now than in six months' time. And now I'm going to speak plainly ... Don't think I'm pleading my cause. That's not my way. I've never pleaded my cause, and I never shall. I make known my will, and people observe it or not, as they feel inclined. Nothing on earth would induce me to marry you now. You're the one man on earth I can't marry— get hold of that. But I want to show you your trouble, because— well, I owe you something and perhaps one day it'll save you from making the same mistake.

"You are an idealist, John. That's one of the reasons why you appealed to me. I love idealists. I'm one myself. But idealists must live, and, what is still more important, they've got to let live. You can't see that just now; you can't translate what I say; but I think you'll be able to one day, and then you'll remember my words.

"You see, if I had deceived you—and, of course, I don't deny that I did, I laid myself out to deceive you: I used every art that I knew— well, if I had deceived you with any shameful object ... let's say to smooth my path to some other man, then your estimate would be true, for by using our understanding to let you down I should have committed a sin which not even an angel from heaven could ever forgive. But we both of us know that what I did I did because I loved you ... And when you come down to earth, as I think you will, you'll see that that makes a difference ... And something more you'll see. You'll see what it cost me to do it. I debased our lovely coinage ... to save your life.

"Some people would call you a fool, but I know better than that. You see, I know you so well. You're so very simple and downright, and Honesty is your god. That worship and your unbridled idealism are, as it were, the lenses through which you see. And so what I did looks monstrous ... It's because of that that I'm neither angry nor hurt— only thankful. If you had weighed me and had dared to find me wanting ..."

Five hundred years of seigniory loaded the argument: the cold majesty of a lion seemed to look out of her eyes: her repose became suddenly fatal— that of some lovely idol from which there was no appeal.

Something was stirring within me ... The challenge had stabbed some emotion that was not dead.

"Finish the sentence," I said. "That's just what I've done."

For a moment she regarded me curiously.

Then—

"No, you haven't," she said. "You think you have: but you haven't. If you could speak my language, you'd understand what I mean. But that's by the way. As I said just now, I—I am—thankful that this has happened. ... To be honest, I knew it might happen. I saw its shadow while I was writing that note. And I very nearly added, 'Don't let him know I've done this.' And then I thought' 'No,' because that was a coward's way. I wasn't prepared to deceive you ... to save myself."

With a sudden air of pleasure she looked about. Then she whipped off her hat and pushed back her hair from her temples, as though to make the most of the cool.

"How fragrant this valley is! It's like a church turned into a perfumer's shop." She drew a luxurious breath. Then she looked at the rill, took two or three steps towards it, and breathed again. "How very strange. I can actually smell the water. Is it imagination, or am I right?"

I answered with an effort.

"It's not imagination," I said.

The eager look left her face and she stood very still. I could see that her eyes saw nothing.

"I know," she said, half to herself. "Don't rub it in."

Again something stirred within me ... something that seemed to be broken. The movement hurt.

I saw her brace herself and lift up her head. Then she whistled for Sabre.

As the Alsatian came bounding—

"And now where's your cousin?" she said. "I fancy the game's nearly over. But I'd like him to hear my news and then we can settle the best way to go in and win."

AS once before, the three of us sat on the turf, and, as once before, Helena Yorick was speaking with my cousin's eyes on her face. But mine were upon the ground.

"If I had to give my story a title, I should call it 'How Pharaoh was hoist with his own petard.' But that wouldn't be strictly correct, because, as you'll hear, it was infallible Dewdrop that let him down.

"As John has told you, I saw him out of Yorick just about twenty past three. Then I went straight to bed, and after a little I managed to get to sleep. At half-past six I was awakened by the most awful din. Sabre was barking like mad and the fire alarm of the castle was going all out. Then I heard men running and voices, and I'd hardly got my dressing-gown round me before old Florin was speaking and knocking upon my door.

"Well, you'll never guess what had happened. A watchman had found blood on the terrace— a trail of blood that led him up to John's room."

She paused there and turned to me. "I'd no idea that Dewdrop had stabbed you so deep. I don't know why, but I thought he'd only just pricked you. It never entered my head that you were bleeding like that."

I said nothing, and at once she resumed her tale.

"The moment I heard the news I saw the infinite value of holding my tongue. I knew whose blood it was and why it was there, but I felt that, left to itself, that blood would cry out with an eloquence which I could never approach. All the representations it made might not be strictly true, but that was not my affair. I was not going to say, for instance, that it came from a wound in the fleshy part of the leg. It might have come from the mouth ... The harder I thought, the brighter the outlook appeared. By using you so roughly, Dewdrop had stirred up a regular hornets' nest; it seemed to me more than likely that with a very little direction the hornets would turn their attention to Pharaoh and him.

"I told the warden to rouse you and, if he could get no answer, to break down the door. Very wisely, you'd left this unbarred— I shouldn't have thought of that. Of course your room was empty, but I went in myself and looked carefully round. You see, I was sure that you must have stanched the wound, and I wanted to see if you'd left any traces of this. But, again, you'd been very careful. And so I was free to give the hornets a tip.

"I turned to the warden.

" 'Where does this trail lead to?' "Poor Florin stared.

" 'But it leads to this chamber,' he said.

" 'Nonsense,' said I. 'It leads from here. Some hurt has been done Mr. Spencer and he has been taken away.'

"The truth of the fiction was obvious. The hornets saw it at once. Four or five servants rushed off to study the end of the trail.

" 'Who was aware,' I demanded, 'that Mr. Spencer was to be lodged in this room?'

"Florin ticked off the suspects.

" 'Your ladyship, myself, the valet, Rachel, both the night-watchmen ...'

"He hesitated there, so I dug in the spurs.

" 'Is that absolutely all?'

" 'Captain Faning knew,' said Florin.

"I gave a most lifelike start.

"'Captain Faning!' I cried. 'So he did. And his servant, too.'

"It was Florin's turn to start.

" 'And his servant?' he cried.

" 'Yes, yes,' I cried. 'Both of them knew. His servant was there last night. I didn't know it when I was speaking to you. But he was behind the curtain— I don't know why.'

"Then I called upon Florin to find you— I gave all sorts of wild reasons why you must be found. And then I fainted, and good, honest Florin caught me and carried me down to my room.

"So you see I'm quite a good actress—

"Well, the hunt was up all right. Talk about sensation ... I could smell the lust for vengeance. The hornets were fairly off.

"I'd no time to bathe, but I made the best of a shower. You see, my one idea was to get down to Annabel as soon as I decently could.

"Before I was out of the bathroom, I heard the incredible news.

" 'Captain Faning' and his servant were gone.

"The rest was very easy. I sent for old Florin and told him most of the truth. I told him that 'Faning' was Pharaoh, and that Pharaoh was after the gold; that Pharaoh had killed young Florin, and that since you, John, could prove this, he was going to take your life. Nothing on earth could save you— except his death.

"There's not much more to be told. I said nothing of Valentine, of course. His return now might not be fatal, but he's very much better away. At a quarter to eight I left the castle a fortress and drove to Annabel."

"Unarmed and unaccompanied?" said Geoffrey.

Helena shrugged her shoulders.

"The risk was slight, and how could I take a servant to where I'd left Valentine? Yet it was vital that you should know at once that Pharaoh was out. To my dismay, you were gone; but, as your room door was locked, I guessed you'd left Valentine there and so would come back.

"Well, I took a room and had breakfast and talked to the man and his wife. They knew me, of course; but I couldn't help wondering what they'd say if they knew that the Count of Yorick was lying two doors away. Then at last Barley returned about half-past ten.

"Well, we held a consultation, Barley and I. His orders were at once to remove the Count, and, much as I wanted to see you, I felt that for every reason those orders must take first place. You see, though Barley knew where he'd left you, neither he nor I had a map, and, though he's plainly a shark at finding his way, his directions to me were enough to break anyone's heart. I've been looking for you for six hours. I sat down and cried once. Sabre'll bear me out."

"Great heart," said Geoffrey quickly, and touched her hand.

Helena smiled.

"The glory to Sabre," she said. "And for all the good I've done I might have given Barley a message— he'll be here in half an hour. I was able to help him, though. I diverted the household's attention while he got my wretched brother into the car. As for his ultimate disposal— well, when I look at you, I feel humble. I acknowledge a master brain. 'The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter.' "

"Pure chance," said Geoffrey lightly. "I'd painted the river just there, and the monks were very kindly and obviously simply stamping to use their skill. You know. Any friend of mine ..."

This told me the truth of the matter. I knew where Valentine was. And that was some sixty miles off in a private ward. This stood remote, its windows commanding the cloister of the convent to which it belonged. The only patients admitted were those alleged to have been bitten by dogs that were mad. The treatment lasted a fortnight ...

"Well, there you are," said Helena. "There are the facts. And now, if you please, Mr. Bohun, what do we do?"

"We take you back to Yorick. I shan't know a moment's peace till you're where you belong."

"And then you're wrong," said Helena. "I'm going to see the fun."

IN the discussion which followed I took no part, and indeed I scarcely listened to what was said, for my thoughts would not leave the scene in the fragrant valley, and at last, since I did not care, I tired of haling them back and let them be. Like so many flies, they hovered over that inquest, alighting on question and answer, feeding on look and accent, and returning again and again to the graze on Helena's leg. This was slight, but the skin had been more than bruised, for the silk of her delicate stocking was smeared with blood.

I rose and moved down stream. There by the side of the water I sought some fern. I was gone some time, for the finer fronds were rare, but after a while I had gathered a little bunch. This I drenched with water . . .

Helena and Geoffrey stopped talking as I approached.

"You've hurt your leg," I said slowly. "My handkerchief's too far gone, but this will serve as a sponge." I stooped to lay the fern by her side. "I hope it doesn't hurt very much."

"Thanks awfully," said Helena, quickly. "No, it hurt when it happened. But now it doesn't hurt any more."

I turned and made for the road, while my cousin followed behind . . .

As I reached the stretch of macadam :

"There's nothing for it," said Geoffrey. "We shall all have to sleep at Yorick, because of this wilful girl. Perhaps she'll see reason tomorrow. How the devil can she lie out all night? She's all in now."

"She can't, of course," said I. "But what's that to do with us?"

"Only this," said my cousin. "That she won't sleep at Yorick unless we do. Her very words."

Although I made no answer, I there and then determined that, now that Pharaoh was gone, nothing— not even violence— should bring me within those walls. Yorick for me was a grave-yard. The thought of its hospitality seemed to tear something inside me— some vital that had no feeling an hour ago.

We strolled the road in silence, from time to time turning about.

After a while my cousin pushed back his hat.

"As a child," he said, "I never liked blind man's buff. And when it was mixed blind man's buff— boys and girls, I mean— I liked it less. That dislike I have never lost ..." He put his hands to his head. "I'd give a Hell of a lot to know where Pharaoh is."

I LOOKED at him sharply. The last few words he had spoken half to himself, but his tone was the tone of a man who is worried to death. Because I was fond of Geoffrey, the instinct to share his trouble lifted its head, and in that moment my apathy fell away.

Pharaoh. Yes, where was Pharaoh? And what would Pharaoh do?

As I asked myself these questions my newly awakened interest leapt into life, my darkness was suddenly lightened and I saw that here to my hand was the very distraction I needed to drive my distemper away. The location and destruction of Pharaoh and Pharaoh's men.

No longer mutinous, my thoughts fell upon the conception, tooth and nail. They gorged themselves upon it. like so many beasts. Action— violent, revengeful action was the antidote nonpareil to the poison which I had drunk. And I was free to take action ... Yorick and its treasure be damned — I had my own quarrel with Pharoah. Ten days ago he had murdered a fellow man. I had sworn to bring him to justice, and so I would. More— a hundred times more. My duty to Helena was over. The yoke that had cumbered my efforts was off my neck.

I had no doubt at all that Pharaoh meant to attack.

The position was formidable, for Yorick was up in arms. But what were its walls and sentries, when more than a million sovereigns were lying within? And since finesse had failed, Pharaoh was going to do what Pharaoh had done before. He was going to commit burglary. Once within the castle, a gang of four such men could have its own way. What were footmen, and grooms and porters? Only troops could cope with the violence which these felons were ready to offer to gain their ends. Three or four writhing servants, and the Countess must open her cellar and bid them take what they would. Who knew better than Pharaoh that ruthlessness pays?

I remembered that Helena had told me that when she went to Salzburg she carried a thousand sovereigns. That these were contained in two boxes. That each of these weighed nine pounds. Allowing for the weight of the boxes. I reckoned that the Rolls could carry at least fifty thousand sovereigns in canvas bags. And fifty thousand sovereigns would mean seventy thousand pounds . . .

The calculation bore fruit.

Before I had finished my sum I knew where Pharaoh would be. And that was as close to the castle as he could bring the Rolls.

A moment's reflection assured me that Pharaoh would make no use of the entrance drive. That was too dangerous. From what Helena had told me, I knew that no tracks led from it and that nowhere could a car leave it because of the well-kept ditches on either side. But the Rolls must be berthed out of sight until her moment arrived . . .

I was ready to wager a fortune that the Rolls was now standing in Starlight— the lovely coppice less than two miles from Yorick, the coppice whose branches leaned over the grey highroad. A blind track straggled into Starlight— a curling, grass-grown ribbon that lost itself and its meaning in less than a hundred yards. I knew. I had used it myself. There the Rolls had rested while Helena and I sat side by side in silence, waiting in vain for the drone of the enemy's car. And now she was there again. And where the Rolls was was Pharaoh. Her way was his line of advance, and his line of retreat. The thing stood out. In the woods between Starlight and Yorick— somewhere there Pharoah would be.

I began to wonder how Pharaoh would enter the castle. If Rush could reach a postern ... But how could they cross the bridge?

Here, with a shock of dismay, I remembered that I was unarmed. For a moment my hopes seemed dust. Then I saw that this was a matter in which I must use my wits. My cousin would arm me, if I could show him good cause. This should not be difficult. I was so simple a fool that he could never doubt my good faith. I began to think how to deceive him.

"This home-coming stunt," I said. "Won't Pharaoh be there to receive us —at the mouth of the entrance drive?"

"As like as not." said my cousin. "The only thing is that unless he heard or saw Lady Helena leave the castle, he'll never imagine that either of you is outside. So he won't be ready. But we'll have to go by all out. All the same, I'm damned uneasy. I can sympathise with detectives who are answerable for the safety of Royalty. And I know very well what they'd do. They'd take her straight to Salzburg and put a guard on her room." He gave his head to the air. "I'm tempted to go by Plumage; but, to tell you the truth, I'm afraid to get out of the car. If we meet the fellow on foot, we're damned well done. Will you go with her in her car?"

"No," said I "I won't. I'll follow with Barley behind."

"All right," said Geoffrey, "all right. But Barley's the better shot, so you'd better drive."

I thought before replying.

"Incidentally," I said, "I haven't a pistol to fire— or any sort of weapon, for the matter of that."

"You won't need one, if you are driving."

"I'd rather have something," said I "I've been caught bending once through being unarmed."

"Perhaps you're right," said Geoffrey. He put his hand to his side and unfastened a hunting knife. "Knives seem to be your portion, but, except my pistol. I haven't anything else."

The blade was sheathed, and I slid the knife into my pocket without a word.

"And allow me to add," said my cousin, "that I am immensely relieved to see you showing some signs of taking thought for yourself. I take off my hat to valour; but to valour, plus discretion. I go on my knees."

I suppose my heart should have smote me. Instead, I fear it was leaping— to see how well the fool was playing the knave.

And at that moment we heard the drone of a car.

Two minutes later Barley drew up beside us in a smother of dust.

"O.K.?" said Geoffrey shortly.

"Every time, sir." said Barley. "It couldn't have gone more easy if you'd been there. The old fathers, they wasn't half pleased. His lordship come to his senses as we was gettin' him out, but I don't think he cared what happened— his head was too bad. An' when he saw the monks an' the gateway, I think he thought he was dead. Anyway, he shut his eyes tight and started in on Latin for all he was worth. I gave them your note and I showed them the 'punctured wound.' I'd made it with my trousers buckle, same as you said. That was good enough for them. Four of them carried him off, an' two of the others rushed off to heat the irons. I only 'ope they don't take his leg off, that's all."

My cousin strove to steady his voice. "Hush." he said. "Her ladyship knows quite enough."

I turned then to see Helena approaching.

"All's well." said Geoffrey. "Your brother is safely bestowed, if not in Abraham's bosom, at least in the arms of the Church. And now shall we be going? I don't want to get in too early, but, if we can find a nice inn, I think we'd all be the better for breaking bread, don't you?"

Helena nodded.

"I'll sit with Barley." she said "I've got to try and show him the way to my car."

Ten minutes later we sighted a good-looking coupe, tucked under a rock that looked like a leaning pulpit, by the side of a fall.

As Barley slowed down—

"And now," said Helena.

"May I come with you?" said my cousin. "I'd like you to drive if you will."

"Very well. But Barley must lead. I don't know the way."

This was not at all to my liking, but happily Geoffrey stepped in.

"Barley shall lead," he said, "till we've eaten and drunk. After that, I'd like to go first. Please do as I say."

Helena hesitated. Then—

"All right," she said abruptly, and left the car.

Her manner made me uneasy. There seemed no doubt that she wanted to have me in view. But all that Geoffrey could see was that, if we were to pass Pharaoh, the car that was leading was more likely to pass him unscathed.

After some fourteen miles we stopped at a wayside inn. The fare was rough and all the appointments most rude: but I think we were all four thankful to break our fast. Though they did not know it, I was a good deal more thankful than anyone else: the others would find plenty at Yorick, but Heaven only knew when and where I should eat again.

No more was said of the order the cars should take, and when our meal was over the coupe was under way before I had taken my seat.

Quick as a flash—

"You'll have to drive, Barley," I said. "You haven't heard, but Dewdrop struck me last night. I think he's found a muscle or something. I'm stiff as hell."

"Very good, sir," said Barley, and took the wheel.

A mile or two later:

"Where's your pistol?" I said. "I don't anticipate trouble, but now that you're driving, I'd better have it in case. I suppose you can guess who's got mine."

As Barley surrendered the weapon: "Her ladyship did tell me something. Fancy Dewdrop stabbin' you, though. They have got a nerve, those swine. I'd like to be be'ind him with a knife. Sit down? He wouldn't have no call to sit down, nor anything else. Five foot of clay'd be all he'd 'ave any use for."

I let him breathe out his threatenings and gave my mind to the problem I had to solve.

I was now well armed; but rack my brains as I would, I could think of no way in which I could give Barley the slip.

The position was this. I wished to alight as close as I could to Yorick, yet not at the castle gate. Some spot in the entrance drive would have suited my purpose well. It had been arranged, however, that the last three miles should be covered as fast as ever they could. Unless, therefore, I left the car before we approached the mouth of the entrance drive, I should have to wait until we had crossed the drawbridge, and that would be the end of my effort, for I should be seen retreating and Geoffrey and Barley would follow and spoil my game. I could make some excuse to alight a moment before we entered the danger zone, but in view of what had happened that morning, Barley would never go on until I re-entered the car, and the others would notice our absence and then the fat would be burnt. It looked as though I should have to enter the castle and leave by some window or other as Pharaoh had done. But then there was always the drawbridge, flooded with light. . . .

I felt a sudden fury at being used as a child. Even Barley would not take my orders. And the moment we gained the castle, the porters no doubt would be told that I was not to go forth. Here was pretty treatment for the man whom the Countess Helena of Yorick had elected to honour ... I perceived that I had escaped an ignominious existence. I had been allotted the role of Lord Consort— a favoured gentleman-in-waiting, the basin of the fountain of honour, very strictly preserved ... Happening to glance at the mirror— the car was closed— I noticed the great Alsatian couched on the hinder seat. It occurred to me that the dog was there to watch me. The excuse had been that there was not room in the coupe — which was absurd. The coupe would have held four. My decision to cheat this surveillance hardened into a stony and vicious resolve.

One thing was in my favour— dusk had come in. And since Helena was not hastening, night would have fallen by the time we came to the drive. So my cousin had ordered, for though I think we all knew that the risk of encountering Pharaoh was very slight, it was Helena's presence that hoisted the flag of peril and made it essential that we should omit no endeavour to keep her person safe.

Again, it would have been worse to have been in the leading car. The net might have been drawn rather tighter— but that was all. My chances seemed desperately thin.

At last, a mile from the entrance drive, the tail-light bore to the right and the coupe slowed down and stopped by the side of the way.

At once we did the same— and, somehow or other, I felt that my chance had come.

"I'll see what they want," I said, and slipped out of the car.

As I came to the door of the coupe: "Look here, my son," said Geoffrey, "Lady Helena wants you to lead." My eyes were burning, and I lowered my gaze to the road. "I don't think it really matters, and so I have given way. From now on put down your foot and don't take it up again till you're over the bridge."