III

I cannot pretend to describe my feelings of the next few hours; nor

would the result be very edifying even if I succeeded in any such

attempt. I trembled for the criminal's security, I quaked for the

sergeant's life, but most of all I quaked and trembled for my own

skin and my own peace of mind. If the sergeant captured Deedes, my

flagrant complicity must inevitably leak out, and I too should have to

stand my trial as accessory after the fact. If, on the other hand,

Deedes murdered the sergeant, and himself escaped, the guilt of blood

would gnaw my soul for ever. Thus I tossed between a material Scylla

and a spiritual Charybdis, in the trough of my ignoble terrors. Every

footstep in the gravel was that of some "stern-faced man" come to

lead me thence "with gyves upon my wrists." Every cry from the street

proclaimed the sergeant's murder in the empty house.

It was impossible to conceal my condition from my friends. With that

partial and misleading candour, therefore, at which I was becoming so

vile an adept, I told them of my recognition of the man whose name

was now in every mouth; of our midnight conversation in my room; of

the police-whistle, and my subsequent adventures in the constables'

company. There I stopped; and the tale gained me a kudos, and exposed

me to a fusillade of questions, which were by no means the lightest

punishments of that detestable day. Again and again I felt certain I

had betrayed the guilty knowledge that lay so heavy on my heart. I was

quite convinced of it about eleven in the forenoon, when my host came

among us perspiring from a walk.

"I've just been down to the police-station," said he, "but they haven't

got him yet. The sergeant tells me----"

"Which sergeant?" I shouted.

"The man you were with last night. He has been speaking about you, Mr.

Bower--speaking very highly of your behaviour last night. Nor was he

the only one; it's all over the town--Girls, we have all woke up famous

for having such a hero in our house!"

Famous! a hero! I thought of the names which might justly replace those

words any moment. And in a sudden irresistible panic I fled the room;

my flight being attributed (I afterwards discovered) to my "charming

English modesty," with odious comparisons which I need not add.

Before this the young ladies of the house had been regaling me with a

good many facts, and perhaps a little unintentional fiction, concerning

the Geelong branch of Mr. Deedes's colonial career. It was a record

highly characteristic of the Deedes who had been so popular and so

infamous at school. He had won every tournament at the tennis-courts;

he danced better than any man in Geelong. He had proposed to a rich

Melbourne widow twice his age; had broken many hearts, including that

of the blue-eyed daughter of the bank; and been seen at one dance,

"well, in a state which made it impossible for us to know him any

more." I had gathered from Deedes that my friends were none of his;

now I was in possession of the cause; but the item affecting the Miss

I'Anson whose face I had just seen the day before, and yet remembered

vividly, was the item that focused my interest. I asked what sort of

a girl she was. The account I received was not a little critical, yet

reasonably charitable save on the part of one young lady who said

nothing at all. She it was also who had said least against Deedes

himself; and of this one I thought when in my panic I had broken loose

from the bevy and fled to the farthest and most obscure corner of the

kitchen-garden. Was she also in love with the attractive scamp? Could

that Miss I'Anson with the blue eyes be in the same helpless case?

Deedes had hinted at the manager's well-grounded good-will towards

himself. Could there be, not a secret but a private understanding

between Deedes and the daughter? He had given me a letter and spoken of

enclosures which I had undertaken to deliver. Did one of them contain

words of love for the sad eyes I could not forget? And if so, was I

bound to keep my promise?

The letter itself I had quite forgotten in the stress of a later

anxiety now happily removed. But I opened and read it among the

gooseberries and the cabbages; and was myself so revolted, alike by the

purport and the tone of this communication, that I have no intention of

reproducing it here. It had, however, the merit of brevity; and this

was the point. He had been an idiot about girls all his life. There

were two at least in Geelong of whom he wished, whatever happened to

him, to take a tender leave. He had written two notes, but had left

them undirected, because it was not fair that I should know the names.

Would I put the three-cornered note on the ledge under the eaves, at

the _back_ of the pavilion at the tennis-courts, and midway between

the ladies' and the gentlemen's entrances? I should probably be going

there that afternoon (as a matter of fact I was going), and it would

take no trouble, but only a little care, to do this when nobody was

near. But he would be immensely grateful to me; and still more so if I

would slip the square note into the biggest book in a certain pew of

the church nearest the Western Beach. He gave the number of the pew,

and the exact bearings of the church, which was always open.

I pass over the thing that incensed me: his taking it so coolly for

granted, before it had been granted, that I would help him in his

abominable dilemma, and so connive in his felony. I had done so; but

had I read this letter in his presence, I flattered myself I had shown

him a stiffer front. As it was, however, these undirected billets-doux

did undoubtedly recruit and renew my interest in the whole intrigue;

and, promise or no promise, I should have carried out the rascal's

instructions to the letter. He had counted upon the inquisitive side

of my character--shall I say of human nature?--and he had counted not

in vain. It was a stroke of genius on his part to leave the notes

unaddressed.

I looked at my watch. We were still on the right side of noon. Going

indoors for my hat, I craved permission to run to my rooms and change

into flannels before lunch; and Deedes himself could not have hit

upon a craftier pretext. It exempted me from escort, and thus cleared

my path to the church, whither I proceeded without delay. The pew was

easily found; I profaned a fat hymn-book with the square note, and

crept out like the stealthy creature I was become. The church had

been empty when I entered it. Coming out, however, I met a man in the

porch. He was a huge, sandy-bearded, rolling walker, wearing a suit

of blue serge and a straw-hat. As we passed, I saw his eye upon me;

a moment later, this caused me to return upon my tracks, in order to

see he did not meddle with Deedes's note. I was too late; I caught

him sidling awkwardly from the pew, with the little square missive

held quite openly between his fingers; and I awaited him in the porch

with sensations upon which I need not dwell, beyond confessing that he

appeared to me to grow six inches with every rolling stride.

"Pardon me, sir," said I, "but you've taken something that wasn't

intended for you."

"How do you know that?" said he.

"It was intended for a young lady."

The big man looked down upon me through narrow eyes.

"Exactly," said he. "I am her father."

And that was all; he passed in front of me without a threatening or

an insolent word, merely pocketing the note as he slouched down the

churchyard path. But I, as I followed, took offence from every cubit of

his stature; and could have hurled myself upon him (so depraved was I

already) had I been more than half his size.

Heaven knows how I behaved at lunch! Instead of Deedes and the

sergeant, the big man in the church was on my nerves. What would he

do? Read the letter, of course; yet he had not even opened it, to my

certain knowledge, when I lost sight of him. Would he know whom the

letter was from? If so (and know he must), my illicit dealings with the

wanted man would be equally plain to him; and how would this stranger

deal with me? Who was he at all? and did he know in the least who _I_

was, or where to lay hands on me? Should I meet him at the courts? I

began to tell myself I did not care either way; that it must all come

to light sooner or later now, so the sooner the better. But the man

never came to the courts. As the afternoon wore on without sight or

sign of him, a little confidence returned; the evening was at hand,

and with it my own atonement as well as that of Deedes; and there was

comfort in the thought that at the worst my false position would come

to an end within the same twenty-four hours which had witnessed its

assumption.

But the interim was itself charged with dramatic interests for me

personally. In the first place there was the three-cornered note.

Impelled by that strongest of all motives, curiosity, and thus

undeterred by the fiasco of the first note, I put the second where I

had been told to put it, and that before I had been five minutes on

the ground. Then I played a couple of setts; but my play was even worse

than usual; for I had one eye all the time upon the gate, and it would

follow each new arrival to the pavilion, and seek a blush on each fair

face as it emerged. I saw nothing then to arouse my suspicions. Yet

when I went for my coat, in less than an hour, the three-cornered note

was gone.

Suspicious as I was, and, for the time being, every inch of me a spy,

I could fasten my suspicion upon no one person. Every girl on the

ground, so far as I could hear, was talking of Deedes with the shocked

fascination of inquisitive innocence: it might have been any one of

them. All looked at me as though they knew me for the red-handed

accomplice that I was; and those to whom I was introduced tortured me

unremittingly with their questions. Never I am sure was a man more

visibly embarrassed; yet who upon that ground could plumb the actual

depth of my discomfort? Only one young lady refrained from adding to

it, and this was Miss Enid I'Anson herself. The name of Deedes never

passed between us. I fancied her relief as great as mine.

We were together some time, strolling about the ground, picking up

balls, and sitting on seats we had occasionally to ourselves. Miss

Enid's eyes appealed to me more than ever. They were dreadfully sad,

but there was cause enough for that. I only hoped--I only hoped the

three-cornered note was not in her pocket. Yet she had arrived early,

and changed her shoes, and never played one sett.

My part in our conversation was chiefly wilful nonsense. I had

conceived a laudable ambition to make those blue eyes smile. I am

ashamed to add that I rattled on until I had them full of tears. Even

then I did not adopt the usual, I believe the well-bred course of

ignoring what was no business of mine.

"You are in trouble," said I bluntly. "How is it at the bank?"

"My father has been summoned to Melbourne by the directors," she

answered in a low voice. "My mother----"

"Your mother?" I repeated presently.

"Is ill in bed," she sobbed. "Oh, Mr. Bower, it is a dreadful, dreadful

trouble! You will wonder why I am here. I am here for the best. Think

that, and nothing more."

But I was not thinking of that at all; a dumb, blind rage had risen

within me against the author of all this mischief; and if beforehand

I was set upon my compact with Deedes, the tears of this sweet girl

were as the seal and signature of my determination. Their money for his

freedom; entire restitution for my risk. On any other terms I would not

only be no friend to him, but his relentless foe.

Thinking of little else meanwhile, and pleading my sleepless night as

an excuse alike for continued silence and for an early retreat to my

lodging, I found him, shortly after nine o'clock, crouched in the

cellar of the empty house, and evidently much altered by his long day

in hiding. He said it had seemed like a week; and the few minutes,

during which some fellow had been poking about the place, like a day.

I told him that was the sergeant. The men had not been to mend the

window. Deedes wished they had. Any risk, he said, would have been

better than the interminable waiting and the ceaseless listening. But

for one little friend he had found he would have made a dash for it and

chanced everything. And in the light of the candle I had brought with

me, he showed me a brown mouse seated on the collar of his coat; but

when I pushed the candle closer, the mouse fled with a scuttle and a

squeak.

"Ah, you've frightened him," said Deedes; "however, he's done his part.

It killed the afternoon, taming him; have you ever tamed anything,

Beetle? I have, every kind of animal, including women; but, by George,

I never expected to see myself as tame as I am to-night! I'm unmanned.

I feel like the Prisoner of Chillon. I'm rusted with his vile repose.

You could lift me out by the hair and give me to the nearest bobby!"

"Come," I said, "there's no need for that. Only show me where the money

is, and do as you've resolved to do, and it won't be such a very bad

business after all. I suppose you haven't weakened on what we said this

morning?"

He laughed bitterly; it was his deep dejection that had turned away my

wrath.

"Good heavens, no! Have you? Did you put those notes where I told you

to? Did you get the whiskers?"

"I have done both," said I, seeing no point in mentioning the

contretemps at the church. "Here are the whiskers; I bought them at

a hairdresser's--for theatricals. And here's a clean duck suit and

a helmet that I used to wear at sea. Don't look askance at them. I

know they're conspicuous. For that very reason, they're going to nip

suspicion in the bud."

Deedes considered a moment, and then gave the most genuine laugh I had

heard from him yet.

"By George, they're the very thing!" he cried, in a soft enthusiasm.

"Lend me your hand, Beetle, for I'm as stiff as the dead."

Five minutes later he rustled and gleamed from his chin to his ankles

in snowy whites; blonde whiskers wept from either cheek; then with his

pen-knife he hacked at his moustache until his mouth showed through

and spoilt him; and with that we were ready to start. Our rendezvous

was Western Beach; our only difficulty, an unseen exit from the house.

We had luck, however, on our side. Not only did we break covert

unobserved, but we met with no undue scrutiny in the open; not a

single constable saw or was seen of us. So we gained the beach, deeply

grateful to our proper stars.

"Now," said Deedes, "you follow me along this pier."

"Why?" said I, with ugly visions; and instinctively I stood in my

tracks.

"Why? You see that topsail schooner away along on the left? Well, I

haven't told you before, but that's where the swag is--aboard the

schooner _Mollyhawk_--waiting for me!"

"I'm not coming," said I stoutly. "You're a desperate man, Deedes. I

know you; none of your hanky-panky. Go you and fetch it. I stay where I

am."

"My good fellow, it's far too heavy for one to carry. There's hundreds

and hundreds in gold!"

"Then bring your accomplice. I'm not frightened of you!" said I

fiercely. "I see a man within a hundred yards; he's coming this way; I

shall have him by to see fair-play."

"Oh, call him then!" cried Deedes, with an oath. "No," he added with

another, "I'll do it for you. Not to trust a fellow in a mess like

this!"

It was a very low cry that he uttered, but the man came up in a moment.

I was surprised that he had heard it at all, surprised also but more

puzzled by a something familiar in his size and gait. And yet not until

he was up with us, and shaking hands with Deedes, did I recognise my

burly adversary of the church hard at hand.

"Help! help!" I cried, with sudden insight.

"My dear old chap, what nonsense!" said Deedes, throwing an arm round

my neck. Something was pressed across my mouth--something moist and

cool like a dog's nose--and held there, as I was held, while sense and

strength ebbed out together. Then the masts and spars of ships flew to

the stars in a soundless explosion; and I knew no more.