The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (527 page)

They were dazed. They stood with the bank notes in their hands just staring. The rain came down hard.

“Do you understand? You are to tell the others to come straight to Jalna?”

“And is all this money for us?” asked Nooky, helpless under the munificence of the gift.

“Every bit of it. Tell your father so. He is to come at once to Jalna. Now run!”

They scampered along the path. They were panting when they reached the road. They were winded when they tore into the dining room where Pheasant was setting out the tea things.

“Boys, you
are
naughty,” she cried. “How often have I told you not to come rushing in without wiping your shoes? Now you’ve brought mud —”

“where is Daddy?” they shouted.

“Sharpening the lawn mower. Tell him to come to tea. Then change your shoes and —”

They were off.

“Oh, the rudeness of them!” mourned Pheasant to herself. “And only a little while ago they were so sweet. It’s the school. I know it’s the school.”

Evidently the mower had been sharpened, for there was Mooey pushing it languidly across the lawn. The rain had ceased. What a pity Mooey always looked half-dead when he was made to do any work. It was so irritating to Piers. When Piers had a thing to do he went at it like a man. Mooey’s expression was so lugubrious it made him laugh. Still, it was no fun mowing wet grass.

The little boys found Piers with three rats in a trap. Ordinarily this would have been a fascinating discovery but now they had no more than a glance for the captives.

“Daddy,” they gasped, “look here what we’ve got!”

Piers stared pensively at the rats. Two of them were young. They crept over the wires, passing and repassing each other, searching for that fatal entrance by which they had come into the trap. The other rat was older and almost twice as large. In his efforts to escape he had wounded himself and now he lay with a resigned look, one pink paw, like a little hand, pressed to his side where a trickle of blood ran down.

“Daddy,” shouted Philip, brandishing the twenty-dollar note, “see what Uncle Renny gave me!”

“I’ve got one too!” shouted Nook.

Piers’ jaw dropped. He said, “Did he give you those?”

“Yes. And we’re to keep it. And you’re to go to Jalna as fast as you can.”

Nook added, “And Mummy and Mooey are to go too. Uncle Renny was awfully excited.”

Piers groaned and placed the rat trap on a shelf.

“Aren’t you glad?” asked Nook.

“Glad!” he said. “Glad! Would you be
glad
, if your eldest brother was going haywire?”

He strode to where Maurice was feebly pushing the mower. He held up his hand. Maurice stopped the mower and looked sulkily at him.

“Mooey,” said Piers, “we’re going over to Jalna. Your Uncle Renny is completely off his head. He has been giving twenty-dollar bills to the kids. God help me, I don’t know what I should do.”

Maurice leant on the handle of the lawn mower and stared at Piers in consternation. “Must I go?” he asked.

“Yes. Get out the car while I go and tell your mother. No! I’d better not tell her the truth. I shall just say we have to go to Jalna. Get out the car.”

ALAYNE HEARS THE GOOD NEWS

S
TANDING IN THE
hall they could hear voices from the drawing-room. Renny listened.

“It’s Alayne,” he said, “and the uncles. Now you two wait here while I go in and tell the news.” He still held the kettle in his hand. His face was lighted by a smile, almost wild in its relief. His hair clung wet to his head. He flung open the door and went into the room. Finch and Roma hung back in the hall, he with a feeling rather of apprehension than joy; Roma’s small face inscrutable.

Nicholas was chuckling over a copy of
Punch
, his gouty leg resting on an ottoman. Ernest was rearranging the articles in the cabinet of curios from India. Alayne was sewing a patch on the elbow of Archer’s pyjamas. All three turned to look at Renny.

“Hullo,” said Nicholas. “I see you’ve come in out of the rain. Sensible man. Sit down and let me read you this sketch.”

Ernest held a tiny jade monkey in his hand. “For some reason,” he observed, “I have always loved this little monkey. I remember how, when I was not more than three —”

“whatever have you in the kettle?” interrupted Alayne, but broke off at the expression on Renny’s face.

He held it up. “Here is the loot,” he said.

They just looked at him, not knowing what he meant.

At arm’s length he displayed the kettle. “I have found the lost money,” he said. “In this old teakettle — look!”

He thrust his hand inside and brought out the roll of bank notes. He strode to Alayne and tossed them in her lap. “There they are!” he exclaimed. “Now you can breathe free. Your husband is neither a thief nor a lunatic. Neither is he a sort of Jekyll and Hyde. He’s a sane man and the happiest in this Dominion.”

“what’s he say?” demanded Nicholas. “what’s this all about?”

“He says,” Ernest spoke tremblingly, “that he has found the money — the bank notes that were taken from Mr. Clapperton.” He replaced the jade monkey in the cabinet and advanced toward Renny with his hands held out. “I’m so glad, dear boy. I’m so glad. I’m so —” tears began to run down his cheeks. He was afraid he was going to break down. He grasped the back of a chair for support and made gulping noises.

“Good!” Nicholas almost shouted in his joy. “Good! Now we have the laugh on that horrid old fellow. You say you found the money in that kettle. And where was the kettle? Sit here, beside me, and tell me everything. Well, well — if ever I was glad of anything, I’m glad of this. In a kettle, you say?”

Alayne stood up. She moved almost stiffly to Renny’s side, letting the roll of bank notes fall to the floor. She looked into his face, her own white and drawn. “Is it true?” she whispered. “Do you remember everything now?”

“There’s nothing to remember. I had absolutely nothing to do with taking the money. It was all a child’s prank. No — not exactly a prank — the poor little thing wanted to be like Robin Hood — take from the rich — give to the poor.”

“Not Archer!” gasped Alayne. “Don’t tell me it was Archer who stole the money!”

“Do you say one of the
children
took the money?” demanded Ernest.

“Yes. And hid it in this old kettle and doled it out — a note at a time. But the poor little thing thought she was being a kind of fairy godmother.”

Alayne’s face was rigid. “Then it was Adeline who did this horrible thing to us.” She could scarcely articulate, her throat was so constricted. “It was Adeline.”

Nicholas kicked the ottoman from him. Without assistance he got to his feet. He brought one fist into the palm of the other hand. “I want this explained so I can understand it!” he thundered.

“where is Adeline?” came from Alayne’s white lips.

Renny smiled at her. “Adeline had nothing to do with it. I don’t believe she has the imagination to invent such a scheme. It was Roma.”

Alayne put her hand to her throat. “How did you find out?”

“She told me — herself. You mustn’t be angry with her.”

“Not angry!” Alayne gave an hysterical laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not angry.”

The door opened. Piers and Maurice, Meg and Patience, entered, with Finch and Roma close behind.

Probably on the battlefield Piers’ face had shown no greater excitement, no greater apprehension, than it now did. With his new, stiff gait he came into the room, his eyes fixed on Renny. When he saw him smiling he was not relieved but stood, watching him warily, ready to humour him, to control him if necessary. Meg advanced fearlessly to Renny’s side.

“Piers brought me with him,” she said, “to hear the good news from your own lips. Renny, dear — I’m so glad.” She laid her hand on his arm.

“Yes,” said Piers. “Wonderful news!”

“Think what it means to me,” Renny exclaimed. “I’m a new man.”

“Are you sure you know just what you have been doing all this afternoon?” Piers looked keenly into Renny’s eyes. They were glittering from excitement.

“Know what I’ve been doing! My God — I’ve seen every move under a magnifying glass. Don’t look at me like that, Piers. It shows what you’ve had in your mind. But don’t worry, I’m as normal as any of you.”

Again Nicholas struck his hands together. “I’m an old man,” he said, “and I think some consideration should be shown me. You all are talking, talking, talking, and no one has made things clear to me.”

Ernest said, “You know that the lost money has been found, don’t you? There it is — lying on the floor where Alayne dropped it.”

Meg bent and picked up the roll of bank notes. “To think of it!” she exclaimed. “And are they all here?”

“Every single one of them,” answered Renny. “I’ve counted them.”

“God bless my soul,” said Nicholas. “where had you hidden them?”

“I had not hidden them. It was this little girl.” He put his arm about Roma and drew her into the centre of the group. “She did it to help me.”

“She stole the money from Clapperton!” shouted Nicholas, divided between horror and amusement.

“Yes. She followed me into his house, on that day when the notes were taken. She pinched them — for my sake, mind you! — she did not keep a single one; she ran with them out of the house and hid them in this kettle in the woods. After that she put them where I should find them — just one happy surprise after another for me. Poor little thing! — she didn’t understand.”

“Not understand,” growled Nicholas. “Not understand what thieving meant — a girl of twelve!”

“I can’t believe,” said Ernest, “that she knew nothing of all the searching, the dreadful nervous strain —”

“She knew nothing.”

“when I think of the nights,” interrupted Piers, “when I have woken, wondering what cloud was hanging over me — when I think of all Alayne has been through, and when I look at this smug youngster —”

Meg interrupted. “what about me? One would think that you and Alayne were the only sufferers. I can tell you there were nights when I never closed my eyes. Often I couldn’t eat, could I, Patience?”

“Oh, I know you are worn to skin and bone from worry,” returned Piers.

“Aren’t we all?” cried Ernest. He bent down to look into Roma’s face. “Roma, you must have seen something of all the searching — the anxiety.”

“I was at school.”

“But before you went to school.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you never confide in Adeline?”

“No, Uncle Ernest.”

“My God,” cried Renny, “don’t you realize what finding the money means to me? I’m a free man. My sky is clear. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters!”

Meg took him in her arms and kissed him. She enfolded him in her motherly embrace. He laid his head for a moment on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to be fully conscious of what had happened but, when he closed his eyes, the old darkness of fear swept back to envelop him. He had suffered too long. He could not be entirely cured in an hour. What he wanted was to relax the tension of his nerves, to be surrounded by a calm rejoicing. It did not matter whether or no Roma had acted wrongly. He was astonished that the attention of the family should be centred on her, rather than on the fact that he was mentally whole. He straightened himself and opened his eyes. He saw Alayne standing tense and white, not white but grey, with a bluish cast. He went straight to her. “Just think of what this means to us,” he said, in a low voice. “I’m a normal man, Alayne.”

A moment passed before she could answer, then her voice came, harsh and unlike her own.

“I am thinking of what it
has
meant to us. I am thinking of the days of futile searching, when your mind was fastened on that one thing. I am thinking of the times when you found the separate notes, hidden here, there and everywhere — with devilish ingenuity. I am thinking of our sleepless nights and your fear that you were losing your reason. And
my
fear. What kind of a life have we lived for months? Have we had an hour’s peace? Look at your face. It has lines it never had before. Look at mine.” She turned it up to him. “And that girl did it all to us by her devilish trick. She did it purposely to torture us. And now you ask me to think only of the relief!”

She broke into loud hysterical crying.

The others stared at her in shocked silence for a space. The colour was drained from Renny’s face. Roma looked at Alayne, fascinated.

“I think you ought to take her up to her room and make her lie down,” said Piers.

“Give her a drop of brandy,” said Nicholas.

Wakefield appeared in the doorway. “what’s happened?” he cried, his eyes twitching.

Finch went to him. He muttered. “Shut up! It’s all right. The money is found.”

Renny was half-leading, half-carrying Alayne up the stairs. She stumbled beside him without speaking till they reached her room and the door was shut behind them. Then she threw herself on the bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. His instinct to comfort her made him throw a silk-lined quilt over her but she flung it off, as though in anger.

“I don’t want anything over me,” she said.

He went to his own room and returned with a little brandy in a glass. He raised her and patted her back while she drank it. “Come now, come now,” he kept saying.

She raised her eyes, wide and blue, to his face.

“Can you expect me,” she said, “to forget all you’ve suffered and to give myself up to simple rejoicing?”

She had left a mouthful of the brandy in the glass and he drank it.

“Alayne,” he said, “such a burden has fallen from me, such a cloud has been lifted from my mind, that I can think of nothing else. You know, darling, I’ve been a very unhappy man.”

She raised herself on her elbow. “If a wife,” she said, “met her husband outside the door of a prison where he had been tortured, would you expect her to be filled with joy at seeing him free again? To look at the scars of his suffering and never give a thought to the torturer?”

“Yes.”

“You would expect that?”

“Yes. I’d expect her to be so glad to see him free that nothing else would matter. Also this is an entirely different case. Roma is no torturer. She’s a little girl who was playing a kind of game. She thought —”