The Mantle of Heroism
It was generally conceded that the Earl of Dumphreys was eccentric. He
was an ardent disciple of Tolstoy, and lived on his estate in the North
in the simplest fashion, unshaven and unshorn, and affecting coarse
girdled robes and sandals.
Despite his titles and his lands, he was as much out of the world as
though he rested with his sires beneath the gray stones of Dumphreys
Abbey.
"Of course," said Nina, her face drawn, "we must wire at once for the
earl."
They were gathered in Kneedrock's suite in St. James's Square--the duke
and his duchess, Lord and Lady Bellingdown--who had chanced to be in
town--and Nina and Gerald Andrews, the latter a veritable tower of
strength in emergency from the very first.
It was the morning following the episode at the Zooelogical Gardens, and
the fate of poor Nibbetts hung, figuratively, on a cobweb.
"Much good it will do to send for the earl," returned the duke a little
testily. "He wouldn't come to town for the king's funeral, and he won't
come to stand at his only son's death-bed. Why, when Nibbetts went down
to see him after his return from the South Seas the earl wouldn't admit
him. I know that. Don't we know that, Doody?"
The duchess wiped her eyes, and nodded.
"Unnatural old beggar!" added the duke.
"Still," persisted Nina, "I think we should wire him."
"Do as you please," he granted; "but he won't come. He never comes.
Hasn't put foot off his own lands in twenty years. If there was anything
wrong with Nibbetts's brain it was hereditary."
"There wasn't anything wrong with it," Nina declared warmly. For
eighteen hours she had been trying to convince herself there wasn't. "It
was just his way."
"But it wasn't his way at all," contradicted his grace. "That's just the
point. Nibbetts never did play the fool before, even for a purpose. He
was too jolly indifferent."
"It's my opinion," put in Donty Down, "that he's been having trouble
over that girl in Dundee."
"Nibbetts wouldn't let any girl make trouble for him," persisted the
duke. "I say he's too indifferent."
"I am going to wire the earl," said Nina in an effort to quench the
dispute.
"He won't come. I tell you he won't come. You try it and see," the duke
flung after her as he crossed to the door.
In the adjoining room she encountered Andrews, and gave him the message.
The experience had brought them very close together--closer than ever
before--and the man had proved himself.
There had been great difficulty when they reached the gardens on the
preceding afternoon to ascertain the facts. The guards evidently had
been instructed by the management to hush the matter up.
Each and all professed entire ignorance. There had been some
disturbance, but beyond that they knew nothing whatever. And the police
were almost equally uncommunicative.
From a visitor, however, Andrews had learned that the scene of the
affair was the tiger-house, and that a gentleman had been probably
fatally injured.
More than that, his informant, who had seen the gentleman carried out,
gave so graphic a description of the victim that, taking all the
circumstances into consideration, there could be no doubt it was
Kneedrock.
As temperately as possible Andrews had passed these tidings on to Mrs.
Darling.
"And now," he said, "you'd best go home at once, since nothing can be
gained by your stopping here. I'll get what additional facts I can, and
follow as soon as possible."
With which he had put her again into the taxicab, and hurried back to
intercept other visitors.
But the narratives, formed most of them from hearsay, were contradictory
and confusing, and it was not until by sheer accident he ran into the
identical guard he had interviewed in the morning that he obtained a
veracious and circumstantial story of what had happened.
The tiger-house, owing to the accident, had been closed for the rest of
the day; and this guard, whose name was Phipps, was among those relieved
from duty.
With a warning finger, to indicate the seal of secrecy that was upon him
while within the grounds, he led his inquirer out through the south
gate, and directed his steps thence to the nearest public house, where
over a pint of half-and-half, for which Andrews was but too glad to pay,
he told his tale.
"It was a most un'appy business, sir," he began--"a most un'appy
business; an' no one as I sees to blaime for it, either. It was like
this, sir: 'E comes in--the gentleman we was speakink of this mornin',
sir--an' str'ight 'e goes for the caige of the big Bengal tigress, just
as usual, sir.
"I was displeased to see 'im back again. I was that, sir. For, as I
said, I felt sooner or laiter there'd trouble come of 'is 'auntink the
plaice. It 'appened, though, sir, the day bein' wettish, there wasn't
more'n a 'andful of wisitors in the 'ouse, an' 'e speaks 'is little
piece to the old Bengal gal without attractink much attention.
"I'm keepink me eye on 'im the while, you may be sure, sir. An' I see
'im leanink as far over the r'il as 'e can stretch, sir--smilink and
laughink in 'is hodd, queer waiy; quiet enough, sir, but a bit creepy,
all the saime.
"An' then, sir, I see the tigress stop 'er pacink, an' she draws up
close to the bars, rubbink 'er sleek sides against 'em, while 'er eyes
narrow, sleepylike, an' she begins purrink like as she was a great big
babblink brook, sir. You could 'ear it all over the 'ouse; an' it wasn't
in reason it shouldn't attrack attention, sir."
He paused to lift his pot of half-and-half, and Andrews sipped his
whisky and water.
"A crowd began to gather," Phipps went on, "an' I see as 'ow it was time
I was takink a 'and. So hup I steps, an' politely I says: 'Would you
move on, kindly, sir?' 'E was a gentleman, sir, that 'e was. 'E never
so much as looks round at me, but 'e moves on without a word.
"The crowd thins out after a minute or so, an', as I don't see 'im
comink back, I turns awaiy to answer a wisitor wot wanted to be shown
the American pumas, an' told about their 'abits.
"It's a fac', sir, as 'ow I'm uncommon interested in pumas, an' I clear
forgot to be lookink after old Miss Bengal an' 'er gentleman admirer. So
'ow it 'appened I didn't see. But Jenkison says--'e's the guard as 'as
the other side, sir--that some'ow the two kiddies got separated, an'
one--"
"The two kiddies?" Andrews interrupted. "I didn't know--"
"Yes, sir. There was two of 'em, sir. Two little girls--six an' seven, I
should saiy, sir. One, runnink on a'ead, tripped an' fell an' let out a
cry. She was the youngest, an' 'er mother, quite forgettink the other,
runs after 'er to pick 'er up an' kiss the spot.
"Jenkison 'ad 'er up first, though, an'--'e's a married man, is
Jenkison, with little uns of 'is own--'e was a soothink of 'er an' never
lookink be'ind. You see, sir, it must 'a' been that it was then that the
other got under the r'il an' begun climbink."
"Began climbing!" Andrews exclaimed. "Do you mean to say a child of
seven--a girl--dared to climb up--"
"She did, sir. An' not a soul seeink her, either. It was the purrink of
the tigress that did it, sir. That's what I think, sir. The kiddie 'ad a
little pussy at 'ome, I dare say, sir, that purred when it was pleased,
an' the tigress's purrink took all fear out of the little un. She
wanted to pat Miss Bengal, an'--"
"Good God!" cried his listener. "She wasn't killed?"
"No fault of 'ers she wasn't, poor child!" Phipps answered. "I 'eard 'er
scream. Jenkison, 'e 'eard 'er, too. An' there was no mistakink what it
meant.
"We ran, an' so did the rest of the guards; but none of us 'ad a chance
of gettink to 'er in time. The beast 'ad 'er by 'er little shoulder, and
was draggink 'er between the bars even before the gentleman got there.
An' 'e was the first that saw."
"He saved her!" breathed Andrews tremulously. "Lord Kneedrock saved
her!"
The guard started in surprise. "Was that 'im?" he asked.
"Didn't you know? I thought--"
"I 'eard 'e was a wi'count, sir. But I never imagined 'e was--"
"Yes, yes!" the other interrupted. "What did he do? What happened?"
"'E was over the r'il like a shot, sir, talkink as 'e went. I never see
the like before. The sound of 'is voice was as magic to the beast. She
let the little un go at once; drew back an'--I give you my word,
sir--begun purrink again.
"The rest of us just stood an' watched. The kiddie, you see, sir, 'ad
fainted. 'Er body was on the floor of the caige, an' 'er little legs
'angink out. It was a most 'orrible moment, sir. I'd 'a' shot the brute
then an' there, but I couldn't get a fair range by reason of the
gentleman--'is lordship--beink in the way; an' to miss would 'a' been
sure death for the little un.
"Seeink as 'ow 'er arms was stretched, there was no chance of pulling
'er out by her feet, either. I saw that in a second, sir. 'Is lordship
saw it, too. For 'e started to drag 'er that way--croonink like to the
beast the while--an' then, of a sudden, 'e stopped.
"The next instant 'is arms was between the bars, an' 'e was drawink the
little gal's 'ands down to 'er sides. An' there that Miss Bengal stood,
watchink. I know the cat tribe pretty well, I do, sir; an' it was me as
was watchink 'er while she watched 'im.
"She seemed as gentle as a kitten; but they're sly beasts, the cats is,
an' not to be trusted second by second. Sometimes their tails give
warnink, sir, an' often as not there's no warnink at all. There wasn't
any with 'er to-day, sir. I saw it all an' there wasn't an eye-wink to
act in.
"'E got the little un all out but 'er shoulders an' 'ead, an' 'e was
easink 'er over a bit on 'er side for to get 'er shoulders between the
bars, one of 'is arms inside an' one out, when it 'appened. The brute
was on 'im in a flash. She caught 'is arm between 'er two great paws,
sir, an' buried 'er teeth in it before you could see she 'ad moved.
"Yes, sir. She was quicker than any hye that belongs to man. But 'e'd
turned the little girl over enough so that 'er weight was most outside,
an'--no, sir, no one lent a 'and; no one 'ad time an' none was needed.
The kiddie dropped clear and free."
"And--and he was fast?"
"Only for a minute, sir. Some one picked up the little girl, an' I
jumped for'ard. Miss Bengal was close enough then for a sure slantin'
aim, an' I took it str'ight between the bars. Three bullets in 'er 'ed,
sir.
"But you'd never believe what she did to that poor arm of 'is lordship,
sir. It was 'orrible, sir. 'Orrible, that's all I say."
That was the guard's story, simple and truthful, with its bare, meager
comment; but a story of real heroism, nevertheless. And it was this
feature of it that Gerald Andrews had carried back to Nina Darling in
her Mayfair flat, where for the longest of long hours she had been
awaiting him.
And now, as they stood together again in the suite in St. James's
Square, it seemed to them both that weeks, rather than less than a day,
had passed since that dread yet vital moment of yesterday.
"His father must come, Gerald," she said, "if we can possibly get him
here. Word the wire as you please, but make it plain that he ventured
his life for a little child. And sign it 'Nina.'"
Then she gave him the address and was hurrying him away when she checked
him at the last moment to seek reassurance.
"Madmen don't do heroic deeds, do they, Gerald?"
"No, Nina," he declared. "They certainly do not. They do brutal deeds,
rather."
"He was eccentric, like the earl. That was all."
"He was nothing more. You may be sure he was nothing more." And he was
all the while forcing himself to believe it--for her sake.
When he was gone Nina shut herself up in what Kneedrock had chosen to
call his "office." In her tense state the chatter of those in the little
drawing-room was well-nigh unbearable.
The duke especially tortured her nerves to snapping. The tears of the
duchess were contagious. And, despite the occasion, Lady Bellingdown and
her lord were constantly bickering.
The mangled arm of poor Nibbetts had been amputated, of course. That was
imperative. And the shock of the operation, following the shock of the
accident, and coupled with an extraordinary loss of blood, had proved
too much for a constitution already depleted.
From the first the surgeons and doctors had given them little hope. He
had barely one chance in a hundred, they said; and recovery would be
little short of a miracle. Since early morning he had been sinking
despite every effort to rally his forces.
It was possible that before death came there would be a faint flare of
energy, perhaps a brief moment of consciousness; but the chances favored
a continuous coma.
"Even if the earl should come now," mused Nina, "I fear he will be too
late. But it was my duty to send; and I've done it."
She moved restlessly about the little room. She sat on one chair and
then on another. She stood for a time peering out between the drawn
curtains. She picked up books, turned the pages, read lines, without
understanding.
After a little she paused beside a writing-table that occupied a corner
and began handling the moveable things that rested upon it--a small,
framed calendar, certain dates on which she found ringed with black ink
and others with red; a clock, which had stopped at twenty-two minutes to
four, a box of postage stamps, pens, quills, a silver knife.
Thrust into a corner of the green blotting-pad was a sealed and stamped
letter, ready for the post. Absently, without motive, she extracted it
and glanced at the superscription.
The hand was his, Nibbetts's, and the fact startled and chilled her. In
all probability he would never write again. And then something else
caught her consciousness: "_Dundee, Scotland_." And at the same instant:
"_Miss Agnes Scripps_."
Scripps! The name he had used to hide behind when he came to Umballa.
The name which--she had always felt sure, though she never knew--he had
gone by in Tahiti and the other islands of the South Pacific where he
had spent his exile.
What did it mean? Who? What? A score of questions, scores of
conjectures, assumptions, suppositions assailed her like an army.
For the moment she was absorbed, lost in a maze of the possible and the
impossible; from which a knocking, thrice repeated, upon the room door
caught her back with a start. It was a nurse, who said:
"Lord Kneedrock is conscious."
She went, at once glad and full of dread, to find all the rest there
before her.
"He has recognized each of us," whispered the duke. "But he hasn't
spoken."
The duchess, with her handkerchief pressed to her face, was vainly
trying to suppress her sobs. Lord Bellingdown was clasping the
sufferer's remaining hand and murmuring: "Good old Nibbetts!"
("You might have thought the poor chap was a dog," said Lady Bellingdown
when she related it to Lord Waltheof in the privacy of her own home the
next day.)
Nina drew near on the other side of the bed. There was very little light
in the room, but Kneedrock seemed to note her presence instantly. His
head didn't move--he was too weak for that--but his eyes turned to her.
And she read the look in them. They beckoned. He wished to say
something.
She leaned toward him, and his pale lips moved. There wasn't a sound
though, not the faintest. Then Nina sat down softly on the side of the
bed and bent her head until her ear felt his breath.
And on the breath came words--one word to each exhalation--faint, but
quite audible:
"_Don't--reproach--yourself.--I--wish--I'd--been--kinder._"
Before it was finished her control was quite gone, and her salt tears
were dropping, raining, from her face onto his.
Some one led her away. It may have been the duke, or Bellingdown, or one
of the doctors. She never knew. Whoever it was took her to a lounge in
the drawing-room, where she lay prostrate for a long time. When at
length she sat up it was to find Gerald Andrews beside her.
"He is gone?" she asked.
"He is gone," he answered simply.
Late that afternoon a telegram was brought to her. It was from his
father, and it read:
At the bottom of every man's soul there is a noble spark that may
make a hero of him; but the spark cannot burn brightly all the
time. When the critical moment arrives it flares up and illumines
great deeds.
Some one said afterward that it was a quotation from Tolstoy, which may
be true. But Nina wasn't interested in its authorship.
What gave her ground for thought was that it had been addressed to "Lady
Kneedrock."
So the earl knew.