"Anything very dreadful?"
"I don't just know," she said. "It's about last night. You know I
stayed out on the porch while you were all over at the fire. Well,
it was while I was sitting there, about a quarter of an hour after
you went, I saw Menning come up by the road. I don't think he even
saw me. He was going at a sort of shambling trot, and he never
looked up when he passed the house. I am sure it was he, though."
"And you never told us!" I exclaimed.
"I knew you'd be angry, but I couldn't help it. I didn't know about
this whole story then, and--and I hate the idea of any man being
hunted that way, no matter what he's done. I thought he might have
some sort of chance to get away, and that's why I didn't say anything
last night, even to Dick!"
"Which way was he going?"
"Toward the hill. Your chauffeur must surely have met him. That's
what I couldn't make out."
"He saw no one at all. The man may have turned off into the woods
when he saw the car. I suppose you know what the sheriff would say
to this?"
"Compounding a felony!" Mary laughed. "Anyway he never asked me, so
I didn't have to tell any lies about it. Only after what you said
last night it worried me, and I thought I'd better own up. Now if he
is caught it won't be on my conscience that I had a direct hand in
it."
"Oh, woman!" I exclaimed.
"You'd have done the same in my case," she retorted. "Besides, I
wasn't supposed to know. You never told me anything."
"You are sure it was Menning?"
"Quite sure. I had left the house door open, and he passed right
into the light. I wondered why he was going away from the fire
instead of toward it, and I thought at first he might be going to get
more help. I didn't know then. He hadn't been there all along."
We reached the farm, and I left her below while I saw my patient.
Either I was longer than I thought, or we must have loitered
unconsciously on our way over, for when I joined her again on the
porch the light was already fading. Then there was a delay about the
cream. Rebecca had to fetch it, and while she was gone Mary turned
to me.
"This farm is still bewitched," she said. "It's the cream-pans now.
Rebecca swears that the milk has gone, these last few nights. Last
night she set out three pans in the spring-house and this morning one
of them was two-thirds empty. I suspect cats, but anyway the problem
takes Rebecca's mind off her other trouble, poor girl. Here she is.
Can you spare this, Rebecca?"
"It's a bit scant, Miss Lessing, but it's the best I can do. We'll
be short for churning this week, as it is. Whatever ails the milk I
don't know! I've never had it go before."
"Well, it isn't witches' work;" Mary smiled. "They turn the milk,
you know, Rebecca, they don't steal it! I'd keep an eye on the cat.
If you'll take Leo a moment, Austin, till we're out of the grounds,
I'll carry the pail--no, it isn't heavy, and I don't trust men
anyway. They spill everything. Good night, Rebecca!"
"Carry your old cream yourself," I retorted. "I won't help you--not
after that. And the way I've condoned your offences, too! Come on,
Leo! Can I let him loose here, do you think?"
"Wait till we're quite clear of the house. He had a dreadful fight
here once. It'll be all right now. We'd better take the path along
the dam; it's a little shorter."
We followed the footpath along which they had carried Freeman that
night to the house. Given any other time and place, I should have
been tempted to do my best in prolonging this stroll, but I had none
too pleasant associations with the place and its surroundings, and
with twilight closing rapidly upon us I was in no mind to loiter. A
stagnant weedy smell rose from the dam, a gloomy stretch of water
with enclosing trees that darkened it still more effectually. Frogs
croaked in monotonous chorus from the weeds at the edge and the
midges were thick. In the end Mary had to give in ignominiously, and
I carried the pail while she fought their attacks off with a
handkerchief.
It was here that Rebecca and her sweetheart used to walk of an
evening, and I wondered at their choice of a trysting-place.
"It's romantic," said Mary, "in a way. Can't you imagine this the
deserted moat, with the ruined castle of Lord Thingummy in the
background? I am sure that Rebecca reads Laura Jean Libbey on the
sly. What spot more suggestive of lovers' vows and maidens palely
loitering! Rebecca's too healthy not to be romantic at her age."
"Romance?" I said. "Fiddlesticks! The Sliefers ought to have this
place drained if they aren't going to work the mill any more. As a
plain medical man I have no use for picturesque sheets of water that
smell bad after sunset."
"So you'd sacrifice all this----" she waved the hand that was not
occupied in keeping nudges at bay--"and plant cabbages on it!"
"Why cabbages?"
"Aren't they the symbol of all that is practical?"
"Including myself!" I snapped. I was getting badly bitten, and with
no opportunity for redress.
"Oh, I didn't say that!" She stopped short. "Did you see that big
fish jump just then? Right beyond the pond-lilies there. This place
must be full of them."
"Carp, most likely. It's pretty deep up at this end."
She stopped to watch the circle widen and disappear, leaving the
water black. "Austin ... do you suppose I ought to have spoken about
Menning before?"
"I don't know that it matters. They'll get him anyhow."
There was no good in mere speculation, and I didn't want to enlarge
on the subject of Menning. She had come into contact with sufficient
ugliness this summer already. "It's more than probable that he has
cleared out altogether by this time. In any case, until we know, I
think it would be better that you kept near the house unless one of
us is with you. There's no good running any risks."
We had passed the mill and were just turning into the little path
that would bring us to the road near the bungalow, when Lessing met
us.
"I thought you two would never turn up," he said. "I'm dying of
hunger. How's the patient, Austin?"
"Getting on. You can carry the pail if you want to work. Where's
that dog got to?"
I had released the setter some little way back, and he had kept
within sight nearly all the way. Missing him now, I turned to
whistle, and saw Leo, a pale shadow in the dusk, nosing eagerly about
the scattered logs that lay in the clearing near the mill. Lessing
called him several times by name, sharply, but he paid no attention.
"Got a rabbit, most likely. Wait a minute. I'll soon fetch him out
of that."
He walked back the few paces to the clearing, and Mary sat down at
the edge of the path with a little sigh of resignation. I offered
her a cigarette, and for some minutes we smoked in silence, listening
for her brother's step. Presently Mary stood up.
"I'm not going to wait here all evening! We'll go on to the house
and let him catch up to us."
We had nearly reached the bungalow before Lessing overtook us. He
was holding Leo by a handkerchief knotted through his collar. The
dog came unwillingly, cringing against his master's legs, the hair
along his spine bristling and his ears kid back.
"Why, look at that!" Mary exclaimed. "I've never seen him act that
way before. You haven't been beating him, Dick?"
"I'd like to!" Lessing stooped to take a fresh grip on the dog's
collar. "Be quiet, you brute! You aren't going back there now."
Mary patted the setter's head. "Poor old boy! Did he get a rat, and
wouldn't they let him have it! Was it a good rat, Leo?"
But the dog only twisted impatiently from her touch, his head turned
backwards and his nose working.
"It was a darn good rat," said Lessing, "but he won't have it now.
Go open the shed door, Mary, till I get him in."
She threw open the door of the tool-shed, and Lessing thrust the dog
inside, pushing him in with his foot, and fastened the latch.
"That's that! Aren't you staying for supper, Austin?"
"Wish I could! I must get the mare back, and I want to be there when
Herrick gets in."
I untied the mare and backed her around. Mary was standing on the
porch.
"Do you notice you can smell that stagnant water at the dam? We seem
to get it in whiffs, every once in a while. I noticed it very
strongly last night, sitting out here. I wonder the Sliefers can
stand it, living as close as they do."
There was a slight taint on the air. As Mary said, it seemed to come
in whiffs. It might have been the dam, but it carried my mind back,
as a smell will do, to some vague recollection I could not quite
place.
"There's a lot of rotting vegetation there. Maybe it isn't so bad at
their end. Sometimes you smell things much more at a distance."
"It just comes and goes. I don't notice it now. You'll be over this
evening?"
"I'll bring Herrick along if he's back."