"But I might have known something was up, if I'd only paid attention
to my flute. It and I are not in harmony to-night. It doesn't like
the secrets I've been blowing into it; it has heard a lot of queer
things in its time, but it's an innocent-minded flute for all that,
and I'm afraid that what I've told it to-night is a point beyond what
it's prepared to go."
"I take it, it knows a damned deal too much," growled I.
He looked at me sharply for an instant, rose, whistled a bar or two
of "Like Hermit Poor," reached down a couple of clay pipes from the
shelf, filled one for himself, and gravely handed the other with the
tobacco to me.
"Beyond what it is prepared to go," he echoed quietly, sinking back
in his chair and puffing at the pipe. "It's a nice point that we
have been discussing together, my flute and I, and I won't say but
that I've got the worst of it. By the way, what do you mean to do
now that you have a fresh start?"
Now I had not tasted tobacco for over four months, and its effect
upon my wits was surprising. It seemed to oil my thoughts till they
worked without a hitch, and I saw my plan of action marked out quite
plainly before me.
"Do you want to know the first step of all?" I asked.
"To be sure; the first step at any rate determines the direction."
"Well then," said I, very steadily, and staring into his face,
"the first step of all is that I am going to kill you."
"H'm," said he after a bit, and I declare that not so much as an
eyelash of the man shook, "I thought as much. I guessed _that_ when
you came into the room. And what next?"
"Time enough then to think of 'what next,'" I answered; for though I
was set upon blowing his brains out, I longed for him to blaze out
into a passion and warm up my blood for the job.
"Pardon me," he said, as coolly as might be, "that would be the very
worst time to think of it. For, just consider: in the first place
you will already be committed to your way of life, and secondly, if I
know anything about you, you would be far too much flurried for any
thought worth the name."
There was a twinkle of frosty humour in his eye as he said this, and
in the silence which followed I could hear him chuckling to himself,
and tasting the words over again as though they were good wine.
I sat fingering my pistol and waiting for him to speak again.
When he did so, it was with another dry chuckle and a long puff of
tobacco smoke.
"As you say, I know a deal too much. Shall I tell you how much?"
"Yes, you may if you'll be quick about it."
"Very well, then, I will. Do you mind passing the bottle?
Thank you. I probably know not only too much, but a deal more than
you guess. First let us take the case for the Crown. The jeweller is
travelling by coach at night over the moors. He has one postillion
only, Roger Tallis by name, and by character shady. The jeweller has
money (he was a niggardly fool to take only one postillion), and
carries a diamond of great, or rather of an enormous and notable
value (he was a bigger fool to take this). In the dark morning two
horses come galloping back, frightened and streaming with sweat.
A search party goes out, finds the coach upset by the Four Holed
Cross, the jeweller lying beside it with a couple of pistol bullets
in him, and the money, the diamond, and Roger Tallis--nowhere.
So much for the murdered man. Two or three days after, you, Gabriel
Foot, by character also shady, and known to be a friend of Roger
Tallis, are whispered to have a suspicious amount of money about you,
also blood-stains on your coat. It further leaks out that you were
travelling on the moors afoot on the night in question, and that your
pistols are soiled with powder. Case for the Crown closes. Have I
stated it correctly?"
I nodded; he took a sip or two at his wine, laid down his pipe as if
the tobacco spoiled the taste of it, took another sip, and
continued:--
"Case for the defence. That Roger Tallis has decamped, that no
diamond has been found on you (or anywhere), and lastly that the
bullets in the jeweller's body do not fit your pistols, but came from
a larger pair. Not very much of a case, perhaps, but this last is a
strong point."
"Well?" I asked, as he paused.
"Now then for the facts of the case. Would you oblige me by casting
a look over there in the corner?"
"I see nothing but a pickaxe and shovel."
"Ha! very good; 'nothing but a pickaxe and shovel.' Well, to resume:
facts of the case--Roger Tallis murders the jeweller, and you murder
Roger Tallis; after that, as you say, 'nothing but a pickaxe and
shovel.'"
And with this, as I am a living sinner, the rosy-faced old boy took
up his flute and blew a stave or two of "Come, Lasses and Lads."
"Did you dig him up?" I muttered hoarsely; and although deathly cold
I could feel a drop of sweat trickling down my forehead and into my
eye.
"What, before the trial? My good sir, you have a fair, a very fair,
aptitude for crime, but believe me, you have much to learn both of
legal etiquette and of a lawyer's conscience." And for the first
time since I came in I saw something like indignation on his ruddy
face.
"Now," he continued, "I either know too much or not enough.
Obviously I know enough for you to wish, and perhaps wisely, to kill
me. The question is, whether I know enough to make it worth your
while to spare me. I think I do; but that is for you to decide.
If I put you to-night, and in half an hour's time, in possession of
property worth ten thousand pounds, will that content you?"
"Come, come," I said, "you need not try to fool me, nor think I am
going to let you out of my sight."
"You misunderstand. I desire neither; I only wish a bargain.
I am ready to pledge you my word to make no attempt to escape before
you are in possession of that property, and to offer no resistance to
your shooting me in case you fail to obtain it, provided on the other
hand you pledge your word to spare my life should you succeed within
half an hour. And, my dear sir, considering the relative value of
your word and mine, I think it must be confessed you have the better
of the bargain."
I thought for a moment. "Very well then," said I, "so be it; but if
you fail--"
"I know what happens," replied he.
With that he blew a note or two on his flute, took it to pieces, and
carefully bestowed it in the tails of his coat. I put away my pistol
in mine.
"Do you mind shouldering that spade and pickaxe, and following me?"
he asked. I took them up in silence. He drained his glass and put
on his hat.
"Now I think we are ready. Stop a moment."
He reached across for the glass which I had emptied, took it up
gingerly between thumb and forefinger, and tossed it with a crash on
to the hearthstone. He then did the same to my pipe, after first
snapping the stem into halves. This done, he blew out one candle,
and with great gravity led the way down the staircase. I shouldered
the tools and followed, while my heart hated him with a fiercer spite
than ever.
We passed down the crazy stairs and through the kitchen. The candles
were still burning there. As my companion glanced at the
supper-table, "H'm," he said, "not a bad beginning of a new leaf.
My friend, I will allow you exactly twelve months in which to get
hanged."
I made no answer, and we stepped out into the night. The moon was
now up, and the high-road stretched like a white ribbon into the
gloom. The cold wind bore up a few heavy clouds from the north-west,
but for the most part we could see easily enough. We trudged side by
side along the road in silence, except that I could hear my companion
every now and then whistling softly to himself.
As we drew near to the Four Holed Cross and the scene of the murder I
confess to an uneasy feeling and a desire to get past the place with
all speed. But the lawyer stopped by the very spot where the coach
was overturned, and held up a finger as if to call attention. It was
a favourite trick of his with the jury.
"This was where the jeweller lay. Some fifteen yards off there was
another pool of blood. Now the jeweller must have dropped instantly
for he was shot through the heart. Yet no one doubted but that the
other pool of blood was his. Fools!"
With this he turned off the road at right angles, and began to strike
rapidly across the moor. At first I thought he was trying to escape
me, but he allowed me to catch him up readily enough, and then I knew
the point for which he was making. I followed doggedly.
Clouds began to gather over the moon's face, and every now and then I
stumbled heavily on the uneven ground; but he moved along nimbly
enough, and even cried "Shoo!" in a sprightly voice when a startled
plover flew up before his feet. Presently, after we had gone about
five hundred yards on the heath, the ground broke away into a little
hollow, where a rough track led down to the Lime Kilns and the thinly
wooded stream that washed the valley below. We followed this track
for ten minutes or so, and presently the masonry of the disused kilns
peered out, white in the moonlight, from between the trees.
There were three of these kilns standing close together beside the
path; but my companion without hesitation pulled up almost beneath
the very arch of the first, peered about, examined the ground
narrowly, and then motioned to me.
"Dig here."
"If we both know well enough what is underneath, what is the use of
digging?"
"I very much doubt if we do," said he. "You had better dig."
I can feel the chill creeping down my back as I write of it; but at
the time, though I well knew the grisly sight which I was to
discover, I dug away steadily enough. The man who had surprised my
secret set himself down on a dark bank of ferns at about ten paces'
distance, and began to whistle softly, though I could see his fingers
fumbling with his coat-tails as though they itched to be at the flute
again.
The moon's rays shone fitfully upon the white face of the kiln, and
lit up my work. The little stream rushed noisily below. And so,
with this hateful man watching, I laid bare the lime-burnt remains of
the comrade whom, almost five months before, I had murdered and
buried there. How I had then cursed my luck because forced to hide
his corpse away before I could return and search for the diamond I
had failed to find upon his body! But as I tossed the earth and lime
aside, and discovered my handiwork, the moon's rays were suddenly
caught and reflected from within the pit, and I fell forward with a
short gasp of delight.
For there, kindled into quick shafts and points of colour--violet,
green, yellow, and fieriest red--lay the missing diamond among
Roger's bones. As I clutched the gem a black shadow fell between the
moon and me. I looked up. My companion was standing over me, with
the twinkle still in his eye and the flute in his hand.
"You were a fool not to guess that he had swallowed it. I hope you
are satisfied with the bargain. As we are not, I trust, likely to
meet again in this world, I will here bid you _Adieu_, though
possibly that is scarcely the word to use. But there is one thing I
wish to tell you. I owe you a debt to-night for having prevented me
from committing a crime. You saw that I had the spade and pickaxe
ready in the cottage. Well, I confess I lusted for that gem. I was
arguing out the case with my flute when you came in."
"If," said I, "you wish a share--"
"Another word," he interrupted very gravely, "and I shall be forced
to think that you insult me. As it is, I am grateful to you for
supporting my flute's advice at an opportune moment. I will now
leave you. Two hours ago I was in a fair way of becoming a criminal.
I owe it to you, and to my flute, that I am still merely a lawyer.
Farewell!"
With that he turned on his heel and was gone with a swinging stride
up the path and across the moor. His figure stood out upon the
sky-line for a moment, and then vanished. But I could hear for some
time the tootle-tootle of his flute in the distance, and it struck me
that its note was unusually sprightly and clear.