At the Encampment--Botany--Fishing--Matilda--The New
Lake--Tillycot--Luncheon--After Recreation--New Visitors to
Tillycot--Edifying Talk--Songs on the Way Home--Mr. Bigglethorpe's
Departure--Uncle and Niece--Mr. Bangs and Rufus--Ladies Catch a
Burglar--The Constable Secures Him--Muggins' Death--Burglars
Repulsed--Rebecca Toner--The Clergy Hilarious--A Young Lady Finds a
Poem.
Mr. Bigglethorpe, Mr. Terry and Marjorie, with part of the picnic
material, got off the waggon at the Richards' place, and proceeded to
the lake. They found the punt there, but saw no sign of the skiff.
Marjorie inherited her father's love of the water, and greatly enjoyed
even the slow progress made by the paddles of her boatmen in the
unwieldy craft. Meanwhile, the waggon arrived as near the encampment as
it was possible to get; the company descended to the blackened ground;
and Mr. Perrowne found a path for the ladies up to the ruins. The
horses, sedate, well-behaved animals, were unhitched, and allowed to
pick about where they pleased, after which the three gentlemen carried
the wraps and picnic baskets and pails to where the ladies stood,
inspecting the ravages of the fire. Muggins had come with Mr. Perrowne,
and sniffed about, rediscovering the treasure hole which had so nearly
proved fatal to the Squire. It was agreed to go down to the water's
edge, and encamp upon some green spot, near good fishing, over which the
bush fire had not run. Such a place was found to the right of the
caved-in tunnel, a broad patch of fine-leaved native grass, shaded by
oaks and maples of second growth. There the provisions were deposited,
and, the rugs being spread over the grass, the ladies sat down to await
the arrival of the boat party. A good three-quarters of an hour passed
before they heard the splash of the paddles, and Muggins ran barking to
meet the intruders upon the sabbath stillness of the scene. While
waiting, Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Errol took a stroll in the dark woods
adjoining, and brought back some floral specimens in the shape of
Prince's Pines, Pyrolas, and Indian Pipes, which were deposited in the
lap of the finder's daughter, with a suggestiveness that young lady felt
disposed to resent. However, Marjorie's voice was heard just then, and
thoughts and conversation were turned into other channels. "Where is the
skiff?" asked the fisherman, but nobody could enlighten him; they simply
answered that it was not there. The colonel remarked that its absence
looked suspicious, and bade them be on their guard. He, accordingly,
inspected the arms of the expedition, and finding them to consist of two
fowling pieces, those of Messrs. Perrowne and Bigglethorpe, and two
pistols borne by Mr. Terry and himself, was comforted. As the fisherman
had inaugurated the picnic, it was obviously his duty to act as master
of ceremonies. He proposed making two fishing parties, one off the scow,
and another off a pier, which he and the gentlemen were about to build
out from the shore below the picnic ground.
A large pine had been felled many years before, probably by lumbermen,
and two lengths of it, each about eight feet, had been rejected as
unsound. These the gentlemen, colonel included, got behind, and rolled
down into the water. Mr. Perrowne and the fisherman doffed their shoes
and socks, rolled up their trouser legs, and waded in to get the logs in
position as sleepers. Three spars of driftwood, bleached white, were
found along the bank, and were laid over the logs at right angles, and
kept in their places, as were the logs, by stakes hammered into the lake
bottom. Mr. Errol and Mr. Terry produced some planks, saved from the
fire that devoured the stables, and laid them over the erection, making
a substantial pier, that would have been the better of a few spikes to
steady the boards. Mr. Bigglethorpe provided rods and lines, and baited
the hooks for the ladies, with grasshoppers, frogs, crawfish and
minnows. The last were provided by Marjorie. At the fisherman's
suggestion, she had got from Tryphena a useless wire dish-cover that had
lost its handle, a parcel of oatmeal, and a two-quart tin pail. Mr.
Bigglethorpe had fastened a handle cut out of the bush to the dish
cover, thus converting it into a scoop-net. Barefooted, Marjorie stood
in the shallow water, scattering a little oatmeal, when up came a shoal
of minnows eager for the food thus provided. At one fell swoop, the
young fisherwoman netted a dozen of the shiny little creatures, and
transferred them all alive to the tin pail. Mr. Errol had a great mind
to join her in this exciting sport, but was not sure what Mrs.
Carmichael would think of it. The possibility that he might have become
Mr. Coristine's father-in-law also tended to sober the renewer of his
youth. As Marjorie had practically deserted her friend for the minnows,
Mr. Bigglethorpe invited her cousin to accompany him, with Miss Halbert
and Mr. Perrowne, in the scow, which paddled off to try how the fishing
was at the narrows. The colonel did not care to fish; it was too dirty
work for him. Neither did the remaining ladies show any appetite for it;
but Mr. Errol and the veteran manned the lately constructed pier, and
beguiled some bass that came seeking shelter from the sun beneath it.
While the gentlemen were thus engaged, the colonel lying on his back
near Marjorie's fishing ground, indulging in a second cigar, the two
ladies strolled away, followed by Muggins, to look for more flowers.
After they had gone about a hundred yards to the right, the dog ran on
before them, barking furiously. Mrs. Carmichael clutched her companion's
arm and stood still. "It may be a wild beast, Cecile, or some of those
terrible men. Let us go back at once." But Miss Du Plessis calmly
answered, "It may be only a bird or a squirrel; dogs often make a great
fuss over very little." So they stood and waited.
Muggins' barking ceased. The reason was apparent in the sound of a
gentle voice they both knew, saying, "Poor Muggins, good doggie, has he
come back again to his old friends?" It was the voice of Matilda Nagle,
and she seemed to be alone. Taking heart, the two ladies went in its
direction, and, guided by Muggins, who came back to lead them, they
descended to a little bay with a sandy beach, where, in the skiff, sat
the woman they sought. She was neatly dressed, and wore a large straw
hat. When they greeted her, she showed no astonishment, but invited them
to enter the skiff and see the pretty place she had back there. Miss Du
Plessis hardly cared to accept the invitation, but the curiosity of the
older lady was aroused and she pressed her companion to comply. Bringing
the bow of the skiff into the shore, Matilda told them to enter the boat
and walk back to the stern. When they had taken their seats, the stern
was depressed, and the bow floated clear of the sand. Then, with every
motion of an accomplished oarswoman, she rowed the skiff along the
shore, altogether out of sight of the other picnickers in scow and on
pier. After a few strokes, she told her companions to lower their heads,
and, ducking her own, shot the boat through what had seemed a solid bank
of foliage, but which was a naturally concealed channel, out into one of
the loveliest little lakes eye ever rested upon. No fire had touched its
shores, which were wooded down to the sandy margin, the bright green
foliage of the hardwood in the foreground contrasting with the more
sombre hues of the pines and hemlocks beyond. In little bays there were
patches of white and yellow water lilies, alternating their orbed
blossoms with the showy blue spikes of the Pickerel weed, and, beyond
them, on the bank itself, grew many a crimson banner of the Cardinal
flower. Another little bay was passed with its last rocky point, and
then a clearing stood revealed, void of stump or stone or mark of fire,
covered with grass and clover, save where, in the midst of a little
neglected garden, stood the model of a Swiss chalet. "Do not be afraid!"
said the woman, catching sight of Mrs. Carmichael's apprehensive look;
"there is nobody in it or anywhere near. We are all alone; even Monty
would not leave his work to come with me." Thus reassured, the party
landed, gathered a few late roses and early sweet peas, and then
proceeded to inspect the chalet. The whole building and everything in it
was in admirable taste, even to the library smoking-room, which was only
disfigured by ugly spittoons and half-burned cigars. Many books were
there, chiefly on chemistry, geology and mineralogy, and there was a
large cabinet full of geological specimens, betokening much research and
abundant labour in their preparation and classification.
The whole thing was so unexpected, so surprising, that the picnic ladies
had to rub their eyes to be sure that it was not a dream; but their
astonishment was increased when the woman turned to the younger one and
said, "I know you are Miss Du Plessis, for I heard you called so at
Bridesdale." Miss Du Plessis answered that she was right. Then Matilda
said, "This is all your land, and of course, the land carries the
buildings with it. I have forgotten a great many things, but I remember
that, you see. So Tillycot is yours too; besides I do not want to stay
here any more. Good-bye, I am going home to Monty." At first, the two
ladies were afraid she was going to take the skiff away and leave them
in the house, but she did not. In spite of their entreaties, she walked
quickly up the grassy slope at the back, and disappeared in the forest
beyond. "Is it not wonderful?" asked Miss Du Plessis. "Come, Cecile,
hasten back, or those poor people will be starving," answered the more
practical Mrs. Carmichael.
On their return to the skiff, the presiding matron, while Miss Du
Plessis rowed, unfolded a long piece of yellow leno she had picked up in
one of the rooms. The channel was quite visible from, what may now be
called, the Tillycot end, but when the passengers ducked their heads and
emerged, they saw there would be difficulty in finding it from the other
side. Accordingly, Mrs. Carmichael bade her companion keep the boat
steady, while she stood up, and fastened the strip of gauze to two
saplings, one on either side of the opening, making a landmark visible
immediately the point was passed that intercepted the picnic party from
their view. Rowing round this point, the two travellers appeared, to the
astonishment of the fishers on punt and pier. The colonel was stretched
out on the grass asleep, and Marjorie, having deserted her minnows, was
tickling him about the ears with a long blade, greatly enjoying his
occasional slaps at the parts affected, and his muttered anathemas on
the flies.
"Oi'm thinkin', Mishtress Carrmoikle, it's gettin' toime fer the aitin'
an' drhinkin', wid your lave, mum; but fwhere did yez foind the
skifft?" Brief explanations followed to the veteran and Mr. Errol, who
were at once put under orders, the one to light a fire and produce the
tea-kettle, the other to fill two pails with clean water, and put a
piece of ice in one of them. Soon the colonel and Marjorie came to help,
the cloth was laid, the sandwiches, chickens, pies and cakes, placed
upon it, and everything got in readiness for the home-coming of the
punt. "O Aunty," said Marjorie, "this would be so lovely, if only poor
Eugene were here too."
"So it would, dear," answered the sympathetic aunt and mother, "but we
must try to make the best of it without him."
The kettle boiled under Mr. Terry's superintendence, the tea was infused
in the little Japanese tea-pot, and the colonel, taking from his
waistcoat pocket a silver whistle that had done duty for a cavalry
trumpet in former days, blew a signal for the information of the
punters. In a minute they arrived, bearing two grand strings of fish,
only the strings that went through the gills of the bass were hazel
twigs. Then there was washing of hands without soap, Mr. Bigglethorpe
showing his companions how to improvise a substitute for Pears' by
pulling up the pretty little water-lobelia and using the unctuous clay
about its spreading roots for the purpose. All sat about the
table-cloth, Mr. Perrowne said, "For what we are about to receive," and
the _al fresco_ repast began. Mrs. Carmichael dispensed the tea, and was
displeased with Mr. Errol for declining a cup just then, because he was
busy with a corkscrew and an ale bottle. Mr. Perrowne joined him with
another; but the fisherman said ale made him bilious and his name was
not William. So Mr. Terry produced his special charge, and treated the
colonel first, then Mr. Bigglethorpe, and finally his honoured self. The
boys, as the matron had termed the two clergymen, seemed to be happy
with their beer, somewhat to his sorrow. "It takes moighty little,
cornel, to shatishfy some payple, but there's aall the more av it for
the risht av us."
Miss Halbert said that Basil had eaten ten sandwiches, two plates of
chicken, and an extra drumstick in his hand, a whole pie, and she
couldn't count the cake. There were also some empty beer bottles at his
feet. He said he was perfectly ashamed of Fanny's appetite, and would
have to petition the Bishop for an allowance from the mission fund, if
she was going through life at the same rate.
"If we only had ouah deah boy with us, Cecile, what a pleasuhe it would
be," remarked the colonel in a personal way, that caused even the
stately Miss Du Plessis to blush.
"Eugene would be better than the whole lot," added Marjorie, with an
injured air, and added: "If some people I know hadn't been pigs, he
would have been here, too." Mrs. Carmichael called her niece to order,
and told the gentlemen they might go away to their pipes and cigars,
while she and the young ladies put away the things. The black bottle
trio adjourned to a shady nook by the shore, and carried three tumblers
and a pail of iced water with them. The bottle revealed its neck from
Mr. Terry's side pocket. The colonel handed his cigar case again to Mr.
Perrowne, who selected a weed, but could not be prevailed upon to fetch
a tumbler. Mr. Errol also declined the latter, having the fear of Mrs.
Carmichael before his eyes, but, withdrawing a short distance in his
brother clergyman's company, he filled the Turk's head, and said he felt
twenty years younger. All sorts of banter and pleasant talk went on
between the smoking gentlemen and the working ladies. Mr. Errol
distinguished himself above his brethren by bringing up water from the
lake and by carrying pailfuls of dishes down to it, for which he
received great commendation. Mr. Perrowne had his ears boxed twice by
Miss Halbert, it was said, for cheek. Mr. Terry was called upon to
deliver up his sacred charge, but demurred. When the ladies made a raid
upon his party to recover it, he fled, but Marjorie caught him by the
coat-tails, and the spoil was wrested from him, although not before he
had poured himself out a final three fingers in his tumbler. Filling it
up with ice-water, he drank to the success of the picnic, and especially
to absent friends. Mr. Bigglethorpe had been so long fishing in the sun
that he thought a rest would do him good. Accordingly, he lay down on
his back with his hat drawn over his eyes, and composed himself to
sleep. Finally, the clergymen went over to where Mrs. Carmichael was
sitting with Miss Halbert and Marjorie, while Miss Du Plessis, having
had a chat with Miss Carmichael, invited her uncle and the veteran to
go for a row in the skiff. At first, these gentlemen were disposed to
decline, but, when they learned that there was something to be seen,
they changed their minds, and accompanied her and Miss Carmichael to the
shore.
The colonel was entranced with the little lake, the clearing, and the
chalet, as were Miss Carmichael and Mr. Terry. It was decided that a
guard, in the form of a caretaker, should be put over the place as soon
as possible, and it was suggested that Timotheus and Tryphena would make
an ideal pair of guardians. While much of the land round about might be
cleared to advantage, it was agreed that the wood around Tillycot lake
should be left intact, save the breadth of a road to the main highway.
Then they fell to discussing Rawdon, a man plainly of extensive reading,
of scientific attainments, of taste in architecture and
house-furnishing, and yet an utterly unprincipled and unscrupulous
villain. "One would think," said Miss Carmichael, "that the natural
beauties of a place like this would be a check upon evil passions and
the baser part of one's nature." But the colonel answered, "In the
wahah, Miss Cahmichael, I have seen soldiehs, even owah own soldiehs,
wilfully and maliciously destyoying the most chahming spots of scenehy,
without the least pohfit to themselves or matehial injuhy to the enemy.
The love of destyuction is natuhal to ouah fallen human natuhe." Mr.
Terry corroborated this statement, and added, "Faix, it sames to me
there's jist two sarts an koinds av payple in the wurruld, thim as
builds up an' thim as batthers down. For moy paart, I'd lafer build a
log shanty an' clane a bit land nor pull a palish to paces." Miss Du
Plessis assented, but drew attention to the fact that Rawdon had
cleared, built up, and beautified the place, and improved his mind on
the one hand, while he was warring against society and law, robbing and
even murdering, on the other. "Mr. Errol said once," rejoined Miss
Carmichael, "that there are two opposite natures, an old man and a new,
in all human beings, as well as in those who are converted, and that no
contradiction of the kind is too absurd for human nature." "Mistah Ehhol
is quite right, my deah Miss Mahjohie, as all expehience attests. Bret
Hahte has shewn it from a Califohnian standpoint. I have seen it in
times of wanah and of peace, bad men, the bent of whose lives was
destyuction, risking evehything to save some little memohial of a dead
motheh or of a sweetheaht, and good men, the regular couhse of whose
cahheah was to do good, guilty of an occasional outbuhst of vandalism."
"Thrue fer yez, cornel, ivery bit. There was a little whipper-snapper av
a Shunday Shcool shuperintindent out in a lake, about a hundrid moiles
frum the city, wid some dacent lads; and, afore they knowed where they
was, the cratur had sit a foine grane oisland a foire for the fun, he
sid, av sayin' the blaze. Oi'd loike to have had the shuperintindin' av
him fer foive minutes."
The explorers were making their way back to the skiff when the colonel,
who had gone back for his handkerchief which he had dropped, said:
"There is a pehson coming down towahds the house, a woman appahently."
Miss Du Plessis looked up the hill, and saw who it was. "It is Matilda
Nagle," she said; "see, she is going back again." At once Miss
Carmichael ran up the hill after the retreating figure, and, as she was
a good runner, and the poor wanderer was tired, she soon overtook her.
Taking both her hands in her own, and kissing the woman, she said: "Come
with us, Matilda, and we will drive you home." The half-witted creature
responded to the caress, and allowed herself to be led to the boat. "I
lost my way," she said. "It is a new road I had never been on before,
and I got turned round and came back here three times, and I am very
tired." The colonel and Mr. Terry made her enter the boat before them,
and then Miss Du Plessis and the veteran rowed the party back to the
picnic ground, Miss Carmichael, at her friend's suggestion, removing the
landmark put up by her mother as they passed out of the channel. At once
Matilda was taken to the shady retreat where Mrs. Carmichael and Miss
Halbert were, and all the ladies waited upon her with what was left of
the eatables and drinkables, in spite of Mr. Perrowne's appetite. Then,
Mr. Terry and Mr. Bigglethorpe went after the horses, and harnessed them
to the waggon. The fisherman came back to summon the party and help to
carry the baskets. Mr. Errol and Mr. Perrowne agreed to row the punt
back to the Richards, and walk the rest of the way, as the addition of
Matilda to the company would make riding uncomfortable if they did
otherwise. The picnickers were safely seated, the baskets and the
strings of fish stowed away, and the Colonel again took the reins for
his party of nine. The two clergymen returned to the scow and paddled
home, singing songs, one of which Mr. Perrowne gave in genuine cockney
style to a Primitive Methodist hymn tune
"Oh we was rich and 'appy once,
And we paid all we was due,
But we've sold our bed to buhy some bread,
And we hain't, got nowt to do;
We're all the way from Manchesteher.
And we hain't got nowt to do.
"Oh him as hoppresses the pooer man
Is a livin on humin' lives,
An I will be sarved in tohother land
Like Lazarius and Dives,
And will be sarved in tohother land
Like Lazarius and Dives."
Mr. Errol applauded the song, but thought it was hardly right to put a
hymn tune to it. He said he "minded an auld Scotch song aboot the
barrin' o' the door." So he sang:--
"It fell aboot the Martimas time,
And a gay time it was then O,
When our gude wife got puddins to mak',
And she biled them in the pan O.
The barrin' o' oor door weel, weel, weel.
And the barrin' o' oor door, weel."
Thus, lightening the journey, they arrived at the last lake, said
how-d'ye-do to the Richards, and tramped home. "How are you feeling now,
Mr. Errol?" asked his comrade. "Man, it's just as I tellt ye, I'm
renewin' my youth."
It was just about six when the pedestrians arrived at Bridesdale. Mr.
Newberry had been there, anxious about his charge, and had joyfully
hailed her appearance in the waggon. Mr. Bigglethorpe insisted on going
home; so, after a whispered consultation with Miss Halbert, Mr. Perrowne
offered him the doctor's carriage, if he would call in and tell Dr.
Halbert that his daughter and all the Bridesdale people were safe, which
he agreed to do. The colonel and Miss Du Plessis were up with the dear
boy, whose name and virtues Miss Carmichael could hardly hear mentioned
with civility. Marjorie fairly wept over the leave-taking of Mr.
Biggles, but commanded herself sufficiently to beg that he would not
christen that baby Woollens, Cottons or Piscopalian. He said
emphatically that he would not, and then departed, taking home a string
of bass to propitiate Mrs. Bigglethorpe. The tea party, spite of Miss Du
Plessis' marvellous story of Tillycot, was very slow. The newly engaged
couple were full of each other. Mrs. Du Plessis, her daughter and the
colonel had Wilkinson on the brain, Mrs. Carmichael and the minister
were self-sufficient, and Mr. Terry was discoorsin' to his daughter,
Honoria. The only free person for Miss Carmichael was the Squire, and
happily she sat at his left.
"Marjorie, lassie," said Uncle John, "you're no lookin' weel."
"That's not very complimentary, uncle; but I am quite well."
"Yon block o' a Lamb has been wearin' ye, I'm thinkin'."
"Not at all, uncle; his gifts and graces are not adequate to that."
"Did Coristine tell ye o' that adverteesment in the Barrie paper?"
"Yes."
"Did he say he had dune onything aboot it?"
"Yes, he said he had written to the Edinburgh lawyer and to other people
about it."
"That was unco gude o' the lad, Marjorie."
"Yes, it was very kind."
"What garred the laddie gang awa before the time, lassie?"
"How should I know, uncle?"
"Wha sud ken were it no you, Marjorie, my pet?"
"I am not in Mr. Coristine's confidence."
"I'se warrant ye, Marjorie, he's just bitin's nails to the quick at yon
Mrs. Swamp's that's he no here the nicht."
"Oh nonsense, uncle, why should he be so foolish? If he wanted to stay,
there was no one to hinder him."
"Weel, weel, lassie, we'll hear frae him sometime aboot yon neist o' kin
business. Aiblins, ye'll be a braw leddy wi' a gran' fortune yet, and
turn up your bonnie bit nose at puir lawyer chappies."
"I don't want to turn up my nose at Mr. Coristine, uncle. I think it
was very splendid of him to fight for you as he did; but I knew nothing
about that when he said good-bye, and I wouldn't shake hands with him."
The Squire put up his hand and stroked his niece's hair. "Puir lassie!"
he said, "it's a gran' peety, but ye're no feelin' half as bad as he is
the noo, gin I ken the lad, and I think I dae."
It was ten when Mr. Bangs brought home the colonel's horse, and Rufus
rattled the missing waggon and team into the stable yard. The latter
joyfully saluted his sisters, shook hands with Timotheus, and
courteously responded to the greeting of Maguffin. Mr. Bangs, declining
any solid refreshment, entered the office, where, besides the Squire,
Mr. Errol and the veteran were established. The picnic ladies were tired
and had gone to rest, and the colonel was relating the events of the day
to the wakeful dominie. Mr. Bangs gave his company an account of the
safe lodgment of Rawdon and Davis, and mentioned incidentally that he
had seen Mr. Coristine alight from the train at Toronto and go up town.
He also cautioned the Squire against divulging the secret of the exhumed
box of money, if he wished to save it for Matilda Nagle.
"Squire," he said, "I don't went to elerm you, bet I'm efreid there's
gowing to be more trebble to-night; I saw thet tevern-keeper from
Peskiwenchow, Devis' brether, et the stetion this merning, with sem of
the fellows we fought et the Enkempment. They're not in Kellingwood now,
end yeng Hill tells me he saw strenge men kemming this way in the
efternoon. I towld yeng Hill to bring his gen, and I brought my mounted
petrol kerbine."
"This is terribly vexatious, Mr. Bangs, just as we thought all our
troubles were over."
"It is, bet I think it will be their lest ettempt, a final effort to get
meney and revenge. We must wound es many ef them es we ken, end ellow
the survivors to kerry off the dead end wounded. Thet will be the end of
it. I met Toner, end he tells me old Newcome is ep and eway. Toner kent
come, for Newcome hes threatened to bern down his house."
A gentle rap at the door interrupted the conversation. The Squire went
to open it, and saw his niece in night attire, with a pale, scared
face, hardly able to speak. "What is the matter, Marjorie?"
"There's a man in Mr. Coristine's room, either in the cupboard-wardrobe
or under the bed," she answered, and slipped quietly upstairs to her own
apartment.
Quickly the information was imparted, and the detective at once took
command.
"Mr. Terry, I know you are a good shot. Tek my kerbine which is loaded,
and wetch the windows of Mr. Coristine's room outside. Give Mr. Errol a
pistol, Squire, and kem on. Ah, Mr. Perrowne, we went you, sir; bring
that lemp end follow us."
All obeyed, and slipped up stairs with as little noise as possible. Mr.
Bangs opened the door and listened. Intuitively, he knew that Miss
Carmichael was right; somebody was in that room. Whispering to Mr. Errol
to guard the door, and to the Squire to stand by the wardrobe, he took
the lamp from Mr. Perrowne and flashed it under and over the bed. There
was nobody there. In a moment, however, the wardrobe door burst open,
the Squire was overturned, the light kicked over and extinguished, and
Mr. Errol pushed aside, when three feminine voices called: "Help,
quick!" and, tumbling over one another into the hall, the clever lookers
for burglars found their man in the grasp of three picturesque figures
in dressing gowns. They were at once relieved of their capture, and many
anxious enquiries were made as to whether they had received any injuries
from the felonious intruder. It appeared that they had not received any
of importance, and that Miss Carmichael was the first to arrest the
flight of the robber.
The household was aroused. The colonel came down with his pistols.
Timotheus, Rufus and Maguffin awaited orders, so he ordered them to arm,
and posted them as sentries, relieving Mr. Terry from his watch on the
windows. Then the examination of the prisoner began. He was the youth
who had driven the buckboard over for the doctor on the eventful Monday
morning. His name was Rawdon, but he was not the son of Altamont Rawdon.
His father's name was Reginald, who was Altamont's brother.
"Where is your fether?" asked Mr. Bangs.
"I dunno," he answered, sulkily.
"Then I ken tell you. He is dead, berned to death by yore precious encle
Eltemont."
"O my God!" exclaimed the youth; "is that so?"
"Esk any of these gentlemen, end they will tell you that yore fether end
old Flower were berned to death, end thet a keroner's jury set on their
remains, which are buried."
"You say as 'ow my huncle Haltamont did that?"
"Yes, I do, end, whet's more, you know it."
Having terrorized his victim, and antagonized him to Rawdon, the
detective drew from him the information that five men, three of Rawdon's
old employees, the tavern-keeper Matt, and Newcome, were coming at
midnight to burglarize the house and get possession of the dug-up
treasure. He confessed that he had slipped into the house while the
party was away picnicking, and, knowing that Coristine had left without
his knapsack, had looked round till he found a room with knapsacks in
it. There he intended to remain till his confederates should require his
services to open the house to them.
"Who towld you thet awful lie ebout Rawdon's meney being in this house?"
"Matt knew. Uncle Monty guv it 'im by signs, I guess. Oh, he's O.K., he
is."
"Well, sir, yore a prisoner here, end if things don't turn out es you
sey, I'll blow yore brains out."
"For goodness sake don't be aisty, mister. I've told you the 'ole truth,
I swear."
Mr. Bangs next found out that the robbers were coming in a waggon, which
would halt some distance to the left of the house, and that their plan
was to set one man at the end of the hall to hinder communication with
the servants' quarters, and two on the upper landing to command the
front and back stairs, while the remaining burglars ransacked the office
and any other rooms in which plunder might be found. The youth's
appointed mission was to fire the house, when the search was completed.
Hardly had this information been received when Maguffin's challenge was
heard, and a well-known voice in military accents replied "A friend."
The colonel went out, and brought in Corporal Rigby, panting for want of
breath.
"You've been running, Rigby," said the astonished Squire.
"Duty required it, sir," replied the constable, saluting; "I have come
at the double, with trailed arms, all the way from Squire Halbert's.
This is his rifle I am carrying. The enemy is on the move, sir, in
waggon transport." "You are jest in time, kenstable," remarked Mr.
Bangs. "Miss Kermichael and the ether ledies hev jest keptured an
impertent prisoner. Hev you yore hendkeffs?"
"I have, sir, and everything else the law requires." Mr. Terry handed a
glass to the breathless constable, who bowed his respects to the company
generally, smacked his lips as a public token of satisfaction, and
proceeded to handcuff and search his prisoner. Several blasting
cartridges with long fuses, and other incendiary material, were the
results of the last operation.
"If I had my way with him, sergeant-major," the constable remarked,
while taking his man under the veteran's command, to the stable, "I
would borrow an old chair from the back kitchen, not the front,
sergeant-major, tie him to it, and set off all these cattridges under
him. He would not go to heaven, sergeant-major, but they would help him
a bit in that direction. The man that would cattridge a house with
ladies in it should be made a targate out of, sergeant-major."
"Poor, deluded crathur!" replied Mr. Terry, "it's but a shlip av a bhoy,
it is, wid a burnt up father, that's been shet on to mischief by thim as
knows betther. Kape him toight, Corporal Rigby, but be tindher wid the
benoighted gossoon." Mr. Bangs ordered all lights out, save one in the
thoroughly darkened office, and another in the closet back in the hall,
which had no window. He called in the three sentries, ordered the
constable to maintain silence in the stable, and slipped out to
reconnoitre. The colonel, the Squire and Maguffin prepared their pistols
for the first volley on the housebreakers. The clergymen, with Timotheus
and Rufus, got their guns in order for the second. It was almost on the
stroke of midnight when the detective slipped in and closed the door
after him. "They are here," he whispered; "wait for me to ect! Now, not
another word." Silent, as if themselves conspirators, the eight men
crouched in the darkened hall, listening to steps on the soft grass of
the lawn. There was the low growl of a dog, a short bark, and then a
muttered oath, a thud, and a groan that was not human. Poor Basil
Perrowne ground his teeth, for he had heard the last gasp of the
faithful Muggins. A hand was on the outside knob of the door. Mr. Bangs
turned the key and drew back the catch of the lock, when two men thrust
themselves in. "Ware's the lights, you blarsted fool?" one of the
ruffians asked. The detective drew back, and the others with him, till
all five had entered. Then Mr. Perrowne threw open the office door, and
Timotheus that of the linen closet. In the sudden light cast on the
scene the pistol men fired and the burglars tumbled back, two hanging on
to three. "Don't shoot," cried Mr. Bangs to the gunners, "but kem on,
fellow them up." After the fugitives they went, not too quickly,
although the bereaved parson was longing for a shot at the murderer of
Muggins. The burglars were on the road, and the waggon, driven by a
woman, was coming to meet them. "Now then," said the detective, as a
couple of revolver shots whizzed past him, "give the scoundrels thet
velley, before there's any denger of hitting the woman." The four guns
were emptied with terrible effect, for the woman had to descend in order
to get her load of villainy on. The detective gave but one minute for
that purpose, and then ordered a pursuit; but the waggon had turned,
and, spite of screams and oaths that made hideous the night air, the
woman drove furiously, all unconscious, apparently, that her course
betrayed itself by a trail of human blood. "Nen ere killed outright,"
remarked Mr. Bangs, "bet I downt believe a single mether's sen of them
escaped without a good big merk of recognition."
"Do you think we have seen the last of them, Bangs?" asked the Squire.
"Certainly! This wes a lest desperate effort of a broken-up geng."
"I wonder who that woman can have been," said Mr. Errol. "I know most of
the people about here by sight."
"She's a very clever yeng woman," Mr. Bangs answered, evasively.
"It'll no be Newcome's daughter?" half asked the Squire.
The detective drew Mr. Carruthers aside, and said: "It wes to hev been
Serlizer, bet she wouldn't gow, even if Ben hed ellowed her; bet a nice
gel from wey beck, a cousin of Ben's, whom he had never seen before, end
who hed just called on Mrs. Towner in the efternoon, offered to take her
place. Her neme is Rebecca Towner, a very nice young person."
"Losh me, Bangs, you're an awfu' man! What deevilment is this ye've been
at?"
"I didn't went you to shoot Rebecca Towner, because, next to pore Nesh,
she is our best female personater, end her name, when she takes off
these clowthes, is Cherley Verley."
"So, you brocht thae villains here by deputy?"
"Yes; they hed to kem, you know, bet I didn't know anything ebout thet
boy end their plans, except in a general way. Rebecca woun't leave the
pore fellows till they're pretty sick."
Bridesdale was lit up again, for nobody cared to go to bed. The ladies
came down to see that the belligerents were safe, and Miss Carmichael
and her brave companions received the meed of praise and thanks their
splendid services deserved. Sorry for the injuries of the would-be
robbers, and perhaps murderers, the Squire was nevertheless relieved in
mind by the success of the night's work. In his satisfaction he entered
the kitchen, and ordered late supper for his allies in that quarter.
Then he summoned Constable Rigby from the stable, bidding him bring his
prisoner with him, and give him something to eat. The constable declined
to sit in a prisoner's presence in an unofficial capacity, but had no
objection to feeding him. When, therefore, the young intruder had eaten
his supper, his gaoler standing by, he was reconducted to the separate
stable, handcuffed, chained, and locked in, the key being deposited in
the constable's pocket. Then, and only then, did Mr. Rigby unbend, and,
after supper, indulge with his five companions, male and female, in the
improving geographical game of cards. The dining room bell occasionally
called Tryphosa away, when, as a matter of course, Timotheus played for
her. The colonel, with a cigar in his lips, and a substitute for fine
old Bourbon in his hand, went up-stairs to enlighten his dear boy as to
the doings of the night, and, especially as to dear Cecile's magnificent
courage. The dominie was terribly concerned about that lady's
single-handed contest with the desperate robber, and would not be
satisfied until she came in person to let him know she was not hurt in
the least, that Marjorie deserved all the credit of the capture, and
that the unhappy youth had seemed so taken aback by the character of his
hall assailants as to be almost incapable of resistance. The colonel
smoked, and sipped, and smiled incredulously, as much as to say, You may
believe this young person if you like, my dear boy, but there is
somebody who knows better, and can make allowance for a young lady's
charming self-depreciation. Mrs. Carruthers, grateful for the safety of
her husband and her father, and Mrs. Carmichael, for that of her brother
and Mr. Errol, were prepared to be hospitable to a degree. The minister
had another opportunity of praising the toddy which the latter lady
brewed, and Mr. Perrowne said: "It isn't half bad, you know, but I
down't know what Miss Crimmage's Band of Howpe would think of it, if she
knew the two temperance champions were imbibing at three o'clock in the
morning." The minister remarked that he didn't care for all the
Crimmages in the world, nor the Crummages either, whatever he meant by
that, for there was no such name in the neighbourhood. "Basil," said
Miss Halbert, "you had better take care. I shall not allow you any
toddy, remember, but shall subscribe for the Montreal _Weekly Witness_".
Mr. Perrowne put a little out of the decanter into his tumbler, with a
practised air very unlike that of a Band of Hope patron, saying:
"Drowned the miller, Fanny! Must take time by the forelock, if you are
going to carry out your threats. But I think I'll drop you, and ask Mrs.
Carmichael to have compassion on me. She wouldn't deprive a poor man of
his toddy, would you now, Mrs. Carmichael?"
"Mrs. Carmichael," said Mr. Errol, answering for that lady, "would hae
mair sense," which shut the parson effectually out of conversation in
that quarter.
Miss Carmichael listened to the conversation, and beheld the minister
renewing his youth. She heard Mr. Bangs entertain her uncle with
stories about a certain Charley Varley, and Mr. Terry say to Mrs Du
Plessis, "Whin I was in Sout Ameriky wid the cornel, God save him." She
saw her friend Fanny exciting the lighter vein in the affianced
Perrowne, and knew that Cecile was upstairs, the light of the dominie's
eyes. There was a blank in the company, so she retired to the room in
which she had found the burglar, and looked at the knapsacks there. She
knew his; would it be wrong to look inside? She would not touch Mr.
Wilkinson's for wealth untold. If he had not wanted his knapsack opened,
he should not have left it behind him. But it was open; not a strap was
buckled over it. The strap press was there, and a little prayer-book,
and a pocket volume of Browning, some cartridges and tobacco, and an
empty flask, and a pair of socks and some collars. What was that? A
sheet of paper that must have fallen out of Browning. It had fluttered
to the floor, whence she picked it up, and it was poetry; perhaps the
much-talked-of poem on the Grinstun man. No, it was another, and this
was how it ran, as she read it, and hot and cold shivers ran alternately
down her neck:--
The while my lonely watch I keep,
Dear heart that wak'st though senses sleep
To thee my heart turns gratefully.
All it can give to thee is given.
From all besides, its heartstrings riven.
Could ne'er be reft more fatefully.
For thou art all in all to me,
My life, my love, my Marjorie,
Dow'ring each day increasingly
With wealth of thy dear self. I swear
I'll love thee false, I'll love thee fair.
World without end, unceasingly.
"O, Eugene, Eugene," she sobbed to herself, "why would you go away, when
everybody wanted you, and I most of all?" Then she put the things back
into the knapsack, all but the sheet of paper, which she carried away,
and thrust into the bosom of her dress, as she saw Miss Du Plessis
approaching. In common with the other ladies of the house, they retired
to their rooms and to bed, leaving the gentlemen to tell stories and
smoke, and otherwise prepare themselves for an unsatisfactory breakfast
and a general disinclination for work in the morning. In the back of
the house, geographical studies continued to flourish, the corporal and
Maguffin contending with the ladies for educational honours, now being
lifted up to the seventh heaven of success, and, now, depressed beneath
the load of many adverse books. All the time, a little bird was singing
in Miss Carmichael's sleeping ear, or rather in that which really does
the hearing, certain words like, "My life, my love, my Marjorie," and
then again "I'll love thee false, I'll love thee fair, world without
end, unceasingly." When she awoke in the morning, the girls told her she
had been crying in her sleep, and saying "O Eugene!" which she
indignantly denied, and forbade them to repeat.