THE RED DELF AMPHORA.
The candle, stepped in a puddle of wax, burnt up steadily. There wasn't
the ghost of a draught in the place. The walls were dry-built, but
their thickness was so great that no breath drove in from the outside,
and the air of the chamber was heavy and earthlike. The place was
bone-dry. I picked up the billiard chalk, and felt that the green paper
wrapping was crisp and stiff. The name of Rolandi et Cie. was printed
upon it, but there was nothing which told me whence it came or how long
it had been there. Only that scribbled word _Hereingefallen_ on
the newly-scraped plaster seemed to fix a date on the spoiler's visit.
It appeared to me that no one would have taken the trouble to chalk up
a jibe unless he had good reasons for supposing that some one else
would come after to read and appreciate it. And yet this was only a
guess. The whole affair was too mysterious to make out any settled
theory from the slim data which lay before me.
I got up, and went down the entrance passage, taking the candle with
me. Going on past the place where we had broken in, I found marks where
another roofing flag had been moved and replaced. It was under the spot
where we had noted the torn-up turf, and I came to a conclusion that
the sleek black pigs of Minorca had been maligned. But--well, what was
the use of puzzling on? Much best to shrug the shoulders, say "Kismet,"
use strong language according to taste, and accept for granted that
every man's fate was writ big upon his forehead.
A blurred noise of moaning came down the passage-way from the black
heart of the Talayot. "That other poor devil's coming to his senses
again, and is feeling lonely," thought I, and retraced my steps. The
little man was talking a bit incoherently, whimpering to himself the
while, and mopping his face with a clammy pocket-handkerchief. He was a
tolerably poor sight.
"Look here, my son," said I: "you've lost your starch, and you'd better
go home."
"Whatever did I come for?"
"Why, to grab something that you've missed, and that I've missed too.
It's best to be philosophical over it, and clear out quietly and not
gossip. Personally, I can do all the necessary ridicule myself. I'm not
over-ambitious about spreading the tale, and getting indiscriminate
chaff thrown in from all four quarters of the compass."
"Then you think there is no hope of getting the Recipe at all."
"The event is with Allah, and I am not in his confidence."
"I must request you not to be profane in my presence, Mr. Cospatric."
"H'm! I'm feeling as if a little profanity would do me good just now."
"Then let me use the word 'blasphemy.' I object strongly to having my
ears polluted by it. Blasphemy----"
"Oh, curse you," I broke out savagely, "stow that rubbish. After
coquetting with murder, you've little call to preach about minor
morals. I guess we're both fairly rabid just now, and if nagging is
your favourite safety-valve, you'd better screw it down; otherwise
you'll get hurt."
We stood there facing one another, the candle feebly illuminating us up
to the knees, the upper parts of our bodies showing only in dim
outline. For a good five minutes neither spoke. At last Weems announced
his intention of departing, and was promptly given leave to go anywhere
from hell upwards. He went down the passage-way, but, being too short
to reach the gap in the roof, asked for assistance. I blew out the
candle and went and hove him up, and afterwards climbed to outer air
and sunshine myself. He was standing by the lip of the pit, clenching
and unclenching his fists, shivering, sweating, and periodically
groaning.
A thought struck me, and I promptly gave him the benefit of it without
reserve.
"We're in a nice pickle, Mr. Weems, aren't we? You've spent a lot of
the money you're so close-fisted about, and will have to travel cheap
if you mean getting home again. And I'm in a ten times worse fix. I've
chucked up a steamer-berth at Genoa; I'm on a God-forsaken island where
there's next to no sea-traffic; and I've run up debts with no prospect
of repayment. It looks a bit as if jail's somewhere very close under my
lee. And whom have we to thank for it? Why you, my sportsman, and no
one else."
"Great heavens, what do you mean?"
"Why, that word _Hereingefallen_ shows that the chap who looted
this Talayot knew we were on the track; and as I haven't mentioned a
word about the affair to any one except Haigh, it stands to reason
you've split."
"I assure you, Mr. Cospatric----"
"Oh, very likely you didn't do it on purpose. But you've got into
conversation with some smart fellow, who's pumped you carefully without
letting you get an inkling of what he's got hold of."
"Upon my word of honour as a gentleman, sir----"
"Faith, gentleman! your word of honour! What's that worth?"
"I must say you are very--very--er--rude. I would have you remember
that I am a graduate of Oxford, and as such----"
"Of course take brevet rank as 'gentleman.' An 'M.A. and a gentleman.'
Lovely!"
"And you," shouted the little man, with a sudden spasm of rage--"you
who presume to lecture me are a man who has been expelled from Cambridge,
a man of no means and no profession, a blackmailer--a--a----"
He spluttered and stopped for want of epithets.
"Blackleg," I suggested, "_chevalier d'industrie_, and all the rest of
it. Very well; I'll admit the whole indictment if it pleases you.
And"--I laughed, and stopped to load and light a pipe--"and now let's
stop slanging one another like a pair of drabs in a sailor's pothouse,
and go our several ways. I'm sure I don't want to see your face again,
and I don't suppose you're anxious to feast your eyes on mine."
"I'm not," said Weems.
Those were the last words I heard him speak. We climbed the roadside
wall to set off, he towards Alayor, and I by the way I had come, and,
so far as I know, never set eyes upon one another again.
I strolled heavily on, musing sourly enough to myself, and feeling
utterly dispirited. There had been moments when life had appeared to me
to be of a very dusky gray, but never before had I seen it all black,
with no single tinge of lighter colour. I looked back over my vagabond
existence, and thought what a hopeless muddle it had been. Even Weems
was to be envied, although his trade was the one trade on earth which I
most thoroughly loathed.
In fact, till I opened the main road to Mahon the blue devils were in
full possession, and made the most of their time. But there a flash of
memory pulled me up all-standing, and caused me to give hoots of joy
and delight, and sent me to the right-about whence I had come, at a
very different pace.
* * * * *
It was late that night when I dragged my feet up the hotel stairs to
our quarters; and as I had fed on nothing that day save prickly pears
(which have but a transient effect on the stomach) and oranges (which
are not much more filling), I told Haigh to order a big dinner, at the
same time mentioning that I hadn't got the Recipe.
"The feeding-hour's past, dear boy," said he, blinking at me anxiously,
"and the regular meal's over. I'm afraid I've strained our credit a bit
to-day. Don't you think the best thing we can do is to stroll down to
the cutter, fill your tummy on corned horse there, and help me slip
moorings unostentatiously after dark? I'm afraid our spec. has rather
missed fire here, and I don't want to expiate the offence by a spell of
_carcel_. You see I've kept out of that so far during these vagrom
years, and I don't want to break record before it's necessary."
I laughed boisterously. "Prison be damned! Look there!" And I pulled
out of my jacket pocket a little two-lugged red earthenware pot, and
poured out a chinking heap of something that glinted with many colours
in the lamplight. "Look there! Essence of rainbows, a good half-pint.
Who says half a loaf isn't better than no bread?"
"Good Lord!" said Haigh. And after a pause, "Who have you been
robbing?"
"Grub first, and then yarn. I've borne the burden and heat of the day,
and I'm very nearly cooked."
"But are you sure they ain't duffers?"
"Duffers, your grandmother! Look at 'em."
"Can't see very clearly to-night, dear boy. Day's been a bit wet,
thanks to my Juggins and his kind efforts. But I'll soon find out." And
off he went to the window with a handful of the crystals, and scratched
the glass with them, satisfying himself that they were really diamonds.
"Michael Cospatric," said he, "'tis a great man y'are, and I'll just go
down and let on to the landlord in confidence that you're an American
marquis travelling incognito."
The resources of the hotel had distinct limits, but Haigh's influence
and eloquence strained them to the very verge that night. I did not
merely feed--I dined; and in consequence spoke of the day's heat as
glorious sunshine, saw only the humours of Weems's freaks, and even
passed over the disappointment at the loss of the Recipe without
painting it in over sombre colours. It isn't in my nature to be
miserable or morbid when I've either a good meal under my belt or the
means of getting others stowed within my pockets; and so being
possessed of both these desiderata, I freely admitted to Haigh that
this terrestrial life was thoroughly well worth living.
"One thing is clear," said Haigh, as I relit my pipe after finishing a
full and exhaustive account of the day's doings--"Weems hasn't been
pumped. You've bawled the story abroad yourself."
"How's that, and where?"
"In the _caffe_ at Genoa. You said there was a man sitting beside
you?"
"Not beside, but comparatively near--say a dozen yards off. Yes, I
remember him--a good-looking fellow in coloured pince-nez. But he'd 'no
Sassenach.' Weems had been talking to him just before, and had found
out that. And so as he and I spoke in nothing else but English, I don't
see how the other could have made out what we were jabbering about."
"Do you always parade all your accomplishments, dear boy? Not much. I
also never make fifty breaks at billiards before a mixed audience. And
your friend with the spectacles was the same. Moreover, he saw that
Weems was a garrulous little beast, and not inviting to talk to. So he
just followed the John Chinaman trick and said 'No sabe,' and listened
unnoticed."
"Commend me for a most particular greenhorn."
"Not of necessity. It's an easy mistake to fall into, dear boy. And,
besides, I don't know that you were trapped that way, after all; it's
only a guess on my part."
"By Jove, you must have hit upon the right thing, though, and for this
reason. I only told Weems about the Recipe. I kept back the item about
specimens being buried under the writing, as a sort of _bonne
bouche_; and as matters turned out, never told a soul about it. So,
you see, the man who looted the Talayot could certainly not have
overhauled the Diary, or he would never have left this little red urn
full of gems. I found it where Lully buried it six hundred years ago,
the lid waxed over, and stamped with an alembic and the man's own
family coat of arms. Gad, I wonder where that signet ring's got to
now."
"Never mind that trifle, old chappie. We've got enough of the
gentleman's family jewellery to be able to do without a trumpery gold
ring. It's the rest of the legacy that I've got my covetousness upon
now. Where's that gone to? You didn't happen to inquire of your
farmeress person whether she'd had any other visitors with
archaeological tastes during the last few days?"
"I didn't; but I don't think she knew of any one being about on that
tack, or she'd have told me about it. The woman was garrulousness
personified."
"Still there's no harm in returning there to-morrow and pushing
inquiries a little further."
"Not the least. It stands to reason some one has been inside the
Talayot; and thanks to this island being a small one, with a good
average of inhabitants to the acre, we should, if we push inquiries far
enough, find out who the explorer was and when he went there."
With that we left the subject, and Haigh went on to relate what a day
he'd had with the Juggins before that worthy finally tore himself away
to catch the Mallorca steamer; which topic, being treated with a
humorous touch, kept us in merriment for the rest of the evening.
Next day I lazed, and Haigh, taking his turn on duty, rode down to the
neighbourhood of Talaiti de Talt, and brought back news that mystified
us still further. The good woman who owned the farm knew nothing about
the matter, neither did the ploughman from whom I had bought the
three-angled hoe; but a stonemason in the cemetery above Alayor
reported as follows:--
He had seen three men, strangers, come up the road from Ferreiras and
walk down that towards Alayor. The time was after midnight, and as he
had finished the work which had detained him so long--to wit, opening a
vault for the reception of a fresh tenant on the morrow--he strolled
homewards after them. But as they passed on straight through the town
he got a bit curious, and, keeping out of sight, followed astern, along
the narrow country roads which led to nowhere special. He saw them pull
up before the great tumble-down Talayot which stands opposite the big
stone altar, and watched them produce lantern, shovel, and pickaxe, and
begin to dig; after which, feeling that his interest had evaporated (so
he said), or, more probably, being oppressed with sleepiness, he
returned to Alayor, and soon had his head under the bedclothes.
Now this was all understandable enough; but when that inquisitive
tombstone artificer deliberately affirmed, in spite of many attempts to
shake his memory, that the spoiling of the Talayot had taken place on
the night immediately preceding our arrival in Mahon and the arrival of
his most Catholic Majesty's mail steamer _Antiguo Mahones_, then
it seemed to Haigh and myself either that somebody was lying most
blackly, or that we ourselves could not believe certain of our own
senses which we had hitherto considered strictly reliable. For during
the gale there had been absolutely no steam communication with Mahon
from the Continent, and to Ciudadella steamers never run at any time.
"Of course," said Haigh, slowly swinging round the contents of his
glass and blinking thoughtfully at them--"of course there's the cable,
which nine days out of ten is in working order. And as this show seems
to be run on lines suitable for some place half-way between Egyptian
Hall and the Bethlehem Institution, we need be surprised at precious
little. But the idea of your _caffe_ friend with the spectacles
cabling across for some one here to copy the Recipe for him and send it
back by post is a leetle too strong. Of course the chances are several
millions to one against his knowing a soul in the island, much less the
address of such a person; but even supposing that did occur, and he had
an intimate friend here, we'll say, for the sake of argument, at
Ferreiras, why should he trust that friend? He must see the friend
would understand that the opportunity was one which would not occur
again in several score of lifetimes; and he might lay his boots on it
that the friend, be he never so confidential and honest, would not fail
to profit by the matter for his own ends. Because, you see, this earth
is peopled by human beings and not archangels. And besides this
trifling objection, doesn't it strike you that the message would never
land in the confidential friend's fingers at all?"
"I don't quite see that."
"It's simple, though. The message is handed in at Genoa. I think
there's a through wire from there to Marseille. Thence it goes to
Valencia, by which time it has been overhauled by at least three
telegraph clerks and all their intimate friends. One cable crosses to
Ivica, another continues on to Mallorca, and a third crosses to this
island. Knowing the weakness of the Spaniard for making his work as
cumbersome as possible, it's a small estimate to say that the message
is--or ought to be--fingered by at least six more men before it gets to
the delivering office. And do you suppose that out of all those poor
devils of telegraph clerks there wouldn't be at least one who would
forswear his vows and pocket the information? No, no; 'tisn't good
enough. If your man was smart enough to eavesdrop, you can lay to it he
wasn't a sufficiently stupendous idiot to shout his secret down a
telegraph wire."
"There's such a thing as cipher, though."
"There is," said Haigh dryly; "but I think we can make bold to leave
that out of the calculations. The odds are piled up star-high, as it
is, against Mr. Spectacles having a confidential agent here at all whom
he would be inclined to trust with such a job. But when you suppose
that the pair of them have a ready-arranged cipher in full working
order, why, then, infinity is a small figure for the chances against
it. Cabling is out of the question, old chappie. In fact, set alongside
of that the idea of flying across carries ordinary probability with
it."
"And as," I added, "the port captain at Ciudadella wires that he has
had no single incoming vessel during the last ten days, and we know
that none have come into Port Mahon except the fleet and the _Antiguo
Mahones_ and ourselves, we've arrived at the most unpickable
deadlock that two grown men ever scratched their heads over."
"That," said Haigh, "is about the size of it; and so I vote we just let
the Recipe slide, and enjoy ourselves on the other goods the gods have
kindly provided. Come across to the next room. The conductor of the
opera company's staying there, and if the opera company's rank bad, the
conductor, at any rate, is a musician."