AT THE GATE
Verbal discussion was plainly useless; it was soon made
sufficiently clear that nothing short of physical force would
persuade that driver. Situated as they were it was not easy to
see how they could resort to that method of convincing him of
the error of his ways. Mrs. Lamb told him, with the lucidity of
which under such circumstances she was past mistress, what she
thought of him, and what treatment she would have accorded him
if the conditions had only been a little different. In a tongue
fight the man proved to be her match; he could pack at least as
many disagreeable allusions into a sentence as she could. For
ten minutes or a quarter of an hour they wrangled, then the
driver delivered himself of an ultimatum.
"I'm not going to stay here all night listening to you. If you
won't get down I'll drive you back. Now which is it to be? I'm
off!"
"Off! Yes, you are off, as I'll soon show you."
She showed him there and then. Whirling round on her seat, she
gave the driver a sudden push; over he went on to the road.
Snatching the reins in one hand, the whip in the other, before
he quite knew what had happened, she was urging the horse to
pursue its onward career.
"Stop! stop!" he yelled. "I'm under the wheel! You're driving
over me!"
"Then if you don't want me to drive over you, you'll get from
under the wheel; I'm going on."
"Are you? I'll teach you, you----!"
The fellow's language was full-blooded. Scrambling up as best he
could, he made a vigorous attempt to board the vehicle and expel
her from the seat she had usurped. She was not disposed to
yield. Down came the whip upon his head and shoulders. There
ensued a lively few moments.
"When you two have quite finished your little conversation
perhaps you'll let me know," groaned Mr. Luker from the rear.
The "little conversation" came to a rapid, and, perhaps on the
whole, not surprising termination. The quadruped between the
shafts, an animal apparently of the cart-horse kind, was, also
apparently, a creature of an extremely patient disposition. But
even the most enduring patience has its limits; that horse
reached the end of his. Mrs. Lamb and the driver were, between
them, tugging at the reins in a fashion to which he was, no
doubt, entirely unaccustomed, while the whip-lash, when it
missed the driver, occasionally alighted on the animal's flanks.
Probably wholly at a loss to understand what was happening, not
unreasonably the creature finally made up his mind that he had
had enough of it, whatever it was. Suddenly the vehicle was set
in motion; both parties persisting in sticking to the reins, and
also, in a sense, to each other, the course steered was of the
most erratic kind. Before the horse had gone very far there was
a lurch which was more ominous than any which had gone before,
and they had been pregnant with meaning; the cart was turned
clean over; the three persons concerned were thrown out of it.
Mr. Luker was the first to give expression to his feelings.
Clinging to the side as the thing went over, he had alighted
with comparative gentleness on the ground.
"I'm alive," he announced. "I don't know if any one else is."
It seemed that the lady was in the same, so far as it went,
satisfactory condition.
"There's not much the matter with me. I'm a bit shaken, and my
clothes are all anyhow; my hat's torn right off my head--but
that doesn't matter."
"Where's the driver? Driver, where are you?" There was no
answer. "That extremely civil gentleman seems disposed to be a
little more silent than he was just now. Driver!"
"It'll serve him right if he's killed. Hollo, I've just stepped
on him; he's lying on the road. Driver!" Still no answer.
"Stunned; lost his senses or something--not that he'd many
senses to lose--cantankerous brute!"
"It's to be hoped that he hasn't lost them for ever, It'll be
awkward for us if he has--especially for you. Your popularity in
this neighbourhood does not appear to be so great that you can
afford to throw any of it away."
"Confound my popularity! What do I care if I'm popular? If that
brute is killed he brought it on himself; if I'd wrung his neck
for him it'd have been no more than he deserved. I've got a
lantern in my bag. I knew what sort of a hole, and what sort of
beasts, I was coming to, and guessed that I'd better be prepared
for the worst. If it isn't smashed to splinters I'll light it
and have a look at him--you can see nothing in this darkness."
The lantern was not broken. Presently its rays were illuminating
the surrounding gloom. She turned them on to the recumbent
figure, not showing too much sympathy as she did so.
"Now then--move yourself! Don't pretend you're dead--I know
better." Possibly by way of exhibiting her superior knowledge,
she shook him by the shoulder. He groaned; she chose to
interpret the sound as having a favourable significance. "He's
not dead; he's all right. Broken a bone, or put his shoulder
out, or something. He won't hurt if we leave him here; we could
do nothing for him if we wanted to. Let's see what's happened to
the cart."
It was not difficult to do that; the explanation of what had
occurred was almost painfully simple. The horse, influenced by
such eccentric guidance, had conducted the vehicle into a ditch.
The jolt of the sudden descent had loosened one of the wheels;
it lay in one direction, the cart in another. The question as to
whether they were or were not to drive in it up to the house was
finally settled. The horse, seemingly none the worse for his
little experience, making no attempt to get up, reclined at his
ease between the shafts, apparently under the not erroneous
impression that he was as comfortable there as anywhere else.
Mrs. Lamb recognised that, so far as any more riding was
concerned, the fates were against her.
"We shall have to walk," she observed. "It's not so very far
from here, along the avenue. Here's the gate."
She went to the gate, revealing its whereabouts by the light of
her lantern. Mr. Luker moving towards her, spoke in lowered
tones.
"Without wishing to alarm you unnecessarily, or endorsing your
coachman's remarks about Mr. Cuthbert Grahrame's singular
habits, I may tell you that my impression is that if he isn't
walking about among the trees, somebody is."
"Luker, don't talk like that! Don't be a fool."
"If I weren't a fool I doubt if I should be here with you now;
but, apart from that, I can only inform you that for some time I
have had a suspicion that our movements were being observed by
some one among the trees, who can see us better than we could
see him, and who was taking a lively interest in all that was
occurring."
"Luker, how do you know? How could you tell?"
"By the sense of sound; I wasn't so absorbed in fighting the
driver. That some one, or something, has been moving among the
trees, keeping pace with us as we went, I'll swear, and I don't
think it was an animal."
"Speak plainly; what do you mean?"
"I think it possible that you and I are the objects of a
conspiracy--especially you. Every step you take you are walking
farther and farther into the trap which Miss Margaret Wallace
has set for you."
"Don't talk rubbish! Have you got that old bee in your bonnet
again? I'm not afraid of Miss Margaret Wallace."
"Aren't you? Then that's all right, because I fancy that her
agents are about you on every side."
"Her agents? What do you mean by her agents?"
"I imagine that Miss Margaret Wallace is more popular in this
part of the world than you are. I can put two and two together.
From what I've seen, and heard, since our arrival, I shouldn't
be surprised to learn that she has nobbled every creature in
the neighbourhood. The station-master has received a hint from
her--that explains the peculiarity of his manner; nothing else
could. That poor wretch lying on the ground has been acting on
her instructions. Don't you make any mistake; I'm sure of it.
I'm equally sure that other friends of hers are waiting for you
in there."
He pointed over the gate, along the avenue. His words, far from
causing her alarm, seemed to act as a fillip.
"Friends of hers upon my property!--if they dare! Do you
think that I'm afraid of what you call her friends?--of any
number of them?--of the tricks they've set themselves to play?
I'd like to see them; I'd like to meet them. This is my
property--mine!--every stick and stone on it! Neither Margaret
Wallace nor any one else has a right to set foot upon it without
my sanction. If I do find any trespassers I promise you that it
won't be me who'll come off worst. Are you coming? You
understand, if you're to earn that thousand pounds you're to
stick to me through thick and thin--to the end! If you show the
white feather, the bond is cancelled."
"Are you going to accept the invitation of the spider to the
fly? You intend to walk into the trap?"
"Trap! Do you think that any trap was ever set that could catch
me? I believe you're talking the purest piffle; but if there is
a trap, and I do walk into it, it'll be to smash it all to
pieces. Once more, are you coming?"
"Oh, I'm coming. I'll do my best to earn the thousand, though
I'm beginning to perceive that it wants more earning than I
supposed. Lead on; where you lead I'll not only follow, I'll
keep as close to your side as circumstances permit."
She threw the gate wide open. It swung back on its rusty hinges
with a harsh, creaking sound. Then they entered the avenue, the
lantern swinging in her hand.