While we sat at breakfast next morning the constable, with his hand
bound up and suspended in a black scarf from his neck, was brought to us
by Mr Mason, and asked to report upon the result of his observations.
"Well, gentlemen, I met some rough customers last night," exclaimed the
man through his brown beard. "All was quiet till the abbey clock 'ud
just struck three, when I heard the sound of wheels, and a trap came up
the road from the direction of Brotherhouse Bar. There was no light on
it, and I heard it stop just opposite where I was on duty. Three men
and a woman got down, and lit a lantern, and took out some spades and
picks, therefore I crouched down and watched. Two of the men were tall,
and the third, who carried the lamp, was short, and looked as though he
were deformed, while the woman was slim and young, and dressed in dark
clothes. I heard one man say, `This must be the place. That house over
there is Thornbury Hall. I recollect it is marked on the Ordnance map
we looked at in the train. And there's Decoy Farm! Now, one hundred
and eighty-six paces due south. This way;' and he led them into the
field and continued straight across to the dike, over the plank, and
then half-way across the next field, where we halted close to the old
willow stump. `This is the place!' he exclaimed, little dreaming that I
was so near. `It's quite a long way off the spot we tried before.'
`Are you quite certain of the distance and the direction?' inquired the
other man, in response to which the first speaker quoted some kind of
direction which he seemed to know by heart. The short man made some
observation in a foreign language, but I didn't understand what he
said."
"And what did you do?" I demanded eagerly.
"Well, the moment the four of them started to dig up the potatoes, I
slipped out from behind the willow stump and demanded what they were up
to. My sudden appearance upset their little game at once; but one man,
the tallest of them, was inclined to be defiant when I ordered them off,
telling them that the land was the property of the ecclesiastical
commissioners, and that they would be prosecuted for trespass. He
struck at me with the pick-axe he carried, whereupon I took out my
truncheon, and next instant I saw a flash and found myself wounded in
the hand. The fellow had used a revolver on me! This sudden action
called forth the condemnation of his three companions, who declared that
to fire on the police was highly dangerous. Then, all three, fearing
that the shot had raised an alarm, threw down their tools and made their
way back to the trap as quickly as they could, being followed by the
cowardly fellow who had fired at me. I rushed after them, although my
hand pained me badly; but they succeeded in getting clear away. Then I
came back to Crowland and called up the doctor, who took the bullet out
of my hand. I had a very narrow escape, gentlemen," added the rural
constable. "I wonder what those people were up to?"
Mr Mason and Fred Fenwicke exchanged glances; but no one satisfied
Barrett's curiosity.
"You see I couldn't well distinguish the face of the ruffian who fired
at me," he said, in response to my inquiry; "but I heard the woman
address him as Selby."
The woman! Could it have been Judith who had accompanied them, or was
it Anita Bardi?
Barrett presently left to report the incident by telegraph to his
inspector at Spalding, and the rector took counsel with us. A bold
attempt to search had evidently been made, and had only been abandoned
by the ill-advised action of one of the party. Although the constable
had been the victim of a dastardly outrage it had certainly been
fortunate that we had marked out the spot and set watch upon it. Our
enemies had made wrong calculations at Threave by not having noted the
second clause of the instructions; but here, with the aid of the plan,
they had certainly hit upon the exact spot designated by the monk
Godfrey.
Mr Mason had gone out to obtain assistance in our work of excavation,
which we decided should commence at once, when a telegram was brought to
me which showed that it had been handed in at King's Cross Station, and
read as follows:
"Come to Grosvenor Street. Most important. Must see you immediately.
If I am not at home go to Harpur Street; but if you desire to fulfill
your promise to help me, do not lose an instant--Judith."
My first impulse was to read the telegram aloud; but my companions,
being in ignorance of my intimate friendship with her, I resolved to
keep my own counsel.
"I have to return to London at once," I announced, crushing the message
in my hand. "You fellows will continue the search, and I will return
tonight if possible."
"Private business?" queried Sammy, who had lit his morning cigarette
airily, and stood with his hands deep in his trouser pockets, regarding
me with some attention.
I responded in the affirmative; and, turning, told the maid to order a
trap at once to take me to Peterborough Station.
Thus I was compelled to absent myself from the work of excavating in
that low-lying fen field a mile beyond the abbey; and at half-past
twelve o'clock I alighted from a hansom in Grosvenor Street, and,
running up the broad flight of steps to the big portico, rang the bell.
"Yes, sir, her ladyship is expecting you," was the footman's response to
my inquiry; and without further ceremony he conducted me through the
fine hall, filled with magnificent trophies of the chase, and up the
wide staircase to a small room on the first floor, wherein, white and
haggard, she rose quickly to greet me.
"Oh, Mr Kennedy!" she gasped when the man had closed the door. "I'm so
glad to see you safe and well!"
"Why Mr Kennedy?" I asked half-reproachfully.
"Well, Allan, then," she said, smiling. "But we have no time to lose,"
she went on. "I fear that something terrible has occurred; but exactly
what, I don't know."
"How do you mean? Explain," I urged excitedly.
"You probably know what occurred down at Crowland last night!" she said.
"They obtained the parchment plan, and at once determined to search for
the treasure known to be hidden there; but a policeman discovered them
and they shot him."
"I know," I responded. "And what occurred afterwards?" That was the
first time she had mentioned the search for treasure, in any of our
talks.
"They returned to London--all three of them."
"And the woman?"
"What woman?" she inquired, looking me straight in the face.
"The woman who was with them," I said meaningly, recollecting that her
own telegram had been sent from King's Cross Station.
"I know nothing of her," was the response. "I'm speaking of my father,
Selby, and the hunchback. They returned to London at seven this
morning--to Harpur Street."
"Well?"
"I went there at nine o'clock, but found the house still closed, and
could make nobody hear, although I know they entered there about eight
o'clock. The blind is now up, and the bear cub is in the window," she
added hoarsely. "There is death in that house!"
"Death! Is that the meaning of that strange sign?" I gasped. "Do you
really suspect that some tragedy has been enacted?"
"Yes," she cried hoarsely. "I fear so. I've been there three times
this morning and can make nobody hear. Oh, Mr Kennedy, you do not know
the awful secret--the terrible--"
But she stopped herself, as though she feared to tell me all the truth.
"Is it that you fear for your father's sake?" I inquired, a new light
suddenly dawning upon me.
"Yes," she cried, her white trembling hand upon my arm. "I do fear.
Will you go with me to Harpur Street?"
"Most willingly," I said. "But if you fear a tragedy had we not better
seek aid of the police?"
"The police?" she gasped, her face blanching in an instant. "Ah, no!
Let us see for ourselves first. The police must know nothing--you
understand. We must not arouse suspicion. I know they have returned,
because at eleven last night, after they had left for Crowland, all the
blinds were down, whereas now one blind is up and the sign is in the
window."
I saw that she was nervous and agitated, and that her suspicions were
based, upon some secret knowledge. She believed that some hideous
tragedy had occurred in that house of mystery in Harpur Street, and
invoked my aid in its elucidation.
"You will not blame me," she said in a hard voice. "I am culpable, I
know, but when you have heard everything and are aware of the
extraordinary circumstances which have brought me to what I am, I know
you will forgive me and look leniently upon my shortcomings. Promise me
you will," she implored in deep earnestness, taking my hand in hers.
I promised, then she rushed into another room for a moment, and
reappeared in hat and jacket. We drove quickly to that short, dismal
street in Bloomsbury, and on approaching the house I saw that the dingy
Venetian blinds were all down save at that window where showed the
mysterious sign.
Having dismissed the cab, we both ascended the dirty, neglected steps,
and rang. The bell clanged loudly somewhere in the regions below; but
no one stirred. I was in favour of calling an inspector from the
nearest police station and telling him of our suspicions, but she would
not hear of it.
"No?" she cried, terrified at my suggestion. "The police must know
nothing--nothing at all. If they did, then I myself must suffer."
Her words were, to say the least, very curious. "No," she went on, "we
must try and get in ourselves--force the door or something."
To force a door of that strong, old-fashioned character was difficult, I
saw. The latch, too, was a patent one, with a well-known maker's name
on the keyhole cover--nearly new. To force a front door in a public
street in the broad light of day without attracting attention is
well-nigh impossible; therefore, instructing her to wait patiently where
she was, so as not to arouse suspicion of the neighbours, I waited my
opportunity, and then got over the locked gate and went down the steps
to the kitchen door in the basement. That, too, was securely fastened;
but on examination of the window it struck me that the shutters were
only closed to and not bolted. Therefore, I called to my love to go
back into Theobald's Road and purchase a chisel, a glazier's diamond,
and a putty-knife, and bring them to me as soon as possible.
She obeyed at once, and until her return I crouched down beneath the
front steps in a spot where the passers-by could not see me. On her
return, a quarter of an hour later, she dropped down the tools to me as
she walked past the house to the other end of the street.
The door resisted all efforts, therefore I presently turned my attention
to the window, at last succeeding in unlatching it with the putty-knife,
working back the bolt of the shutters and crawling inside the dirty,
dismal kitchen.
At that moment Lady Judith had ascended the steps to the front door;
and, groping my way in the semi-darkness up the stairs, I gained the
wide old-fashioned hall, and, after some difficulty with the complicated
lock, opened the door to her.
Then, together, we went forth to ascertain what mystery that closed and
gloomy place contained.