THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
This conversation with Rebecca had suggested to Ezra that he might still
have influence enough with his father's ward to induce her to come out
of doors, and so put herself within the reach of Burt. He had proposed
the plan to his father, who approved of it heartily. The only weak
point in his scheme had been the difficulty which might arise in
inducing the girl to venture out of the Priory on that tempestuous
winter's night. There was evidently only one incentive strong enough to
bring it about, and that was the hope of escape. By harping skilfully
upon this string they might lure her into the trap. Ezra and his father
composed the letter together, and the former handed it to Mrs. Jorrocks,
with a request that she should deliver it.
It chanced, however, that Rebecca, keenly alive to any attempt at
communication between the young merchant and her mistress, saw the crone
hobbling down the passage with the note in her hand.
"What's that, mother?" she asked.
"It's a letter for her," wheezed the old woman, nodding her tremulous
head in the direction of Kate's room.
"I'll take it up," said Rebecca eagerly. "I am just going up there with
her tea."
"Thank ye. Them stairs tries my rheumatiz something cruel."
The maid took the note and carried it upstairs. Instead of taking it
straight to her mistress she slipped into her own room and read every
word of it. It appeared to confirm her worst suspicions. Here was Ezra
asking an interview with the woman whom he had assured her that he
hated. It was true that the request was made in measured words and on a
plausible pretext. No doubt that was merely to deceive any other eye
which might rest upon it. There was an understanding between them, and
this was an assignation. The girl walked swiftly up and down the room
like a caged tigress, striking her head with her clenched hands in her
anger and biting her lip until the blood came. It was some time before
she could overcome her agitation sufficiently to deliver the note, and
when she did so her mistress, as we have seen, noticed that her manner
was nervous and wild. She little dreamed of the struggle which was
going on in the dark-eyed girl's mind against the impulse which urged
her to seize her imagined rival by the white throat and choke the life
out of her.
"It's eight o'clock now," Ezra was saying downstairs. "I wonder whether
she will come?"
"She is sure to come," his father said briefly.
"Suppose she didn't?"
"In that case we should find other means to bring her out. We have not
gone so far, to break down over a trifle at the last moment."
"I must have something to drink," Ezra said, after a pause, helping
himself from the bottle. "I feel as cold as ice and as nervous as a
cat. I can't understand how you look so unconcerned. If you were going
to sign an invoice or audit an account or anything else in the way of
business you could not take it more calmly. I wish the time would come.
This waiting is terrible."
"Let us pass the time to advantage," said John Girdlestone; and drawing
a little fat Bible from his pocket he began to read it aloud in a solemn
and sonorous voice. The yellow light illuminated the old merchant's
massive features as he stooped forwards towards the candle.
His strongly marked nose and his hollow cheeks gave him a vulture-like
aspect, which was increased by the effect of his deep-set glittering
eyes.
Ezra, leaning back in his chair with the firelight flickering over his
haggard but still handsome face, looked across at his father with a
puzzled expression. He had never yet been able to determine whether the
old man was a consummate hypocrite or a religious monomaniac. Burt lay
with his feet in the light of the fire and his head sunk back across the
arm of the chair, fast asleep and snoring loudly.
"Isn't it time to wake him up?" Ezra asked, interrupting the reading.
"Yes, I think it is," his father answered, closing the sacred volume
reverently and replacing it in his bosom.
Ezra took up the candle and held it over the sleeping man. "What a
brute he looks!" he said. "Did ever you see such an animal in your
life?"
The navvy was certainly not a pretty sight. His muscular arms and legs
were all a-sprawl and his head hung back at a strange angle to his body,
so that his fiery red beard pointed upwards, exposing all the thick
sinewy throat beneath it. His eyes were half open and looked bleared
and unhealthy, while his thick lips puffed out with a whistling sound at
every expiration. His dirty brown coat was thrown open, and out of one
of the pockets protruded a short thick cudgel with a leaden head.
John Girdlestone picked it out and tried it in the air. "I think I
could kill an ox with this," he said.
"Don't wave it about _my_ head," cried Ezra. "As you stand in the
firelight brandishing that stick in your long arms you are less
attractive than usual."
John Girdlestone smiled and replaced the cudgel in the sleeper's pocket.
"Wake up, Burt," he cried, shaking him by the arm. "It's half-past
eight."
The navvy started to his feet with an oath and then fell back into his
chair, staring round him vacantly, at a loss as to where he might be.
His eye fell upon the bottle of Hollands, which was now nearly empty,
and he held out his hand to it with an exclamation of recognition.
"I've been asleep, guv'nor," he said hoarsely. "Must have a dram to set
me straight. Did you say it was time for the job."
"We have made arrangements by which she will be out by the withered oak
at nine o'clock."
"That's not for half an hour," cried Burt, in a surly voice. "You need
not have woke me yet."
"We'd better go out there now. She may come rather before the time"
"Come on, then!" said the navvy, buttoning up his coat and rolling a
ragged cravat round his throat. "Who is a-comin' with me?"
"We shall both come," answered John Girdlestone firmly. "You will need
help to carry her to the railway line."
"Surely Burt can do that himself," Ezra remarked. "She's not so very
heavy."
Girdlestone drew his son aside. "Don't be so foolish, Ezra," he said.
"We can't trust the half-drunken fellow. It must be done with the
greatest carefulness and precision, and no traces left. Our old
business watchword was to overlook everything ourselves, and we shall
certainly do so now."
"It's a horrible affair!" Ezra said, with a shudder. "I wish I was out
of it."
"You won't think that to-morrow morning when you realize that the firm
is saved and no one the wiser. He has gone on. Don't lose sight of
him."
They both hurried out, and found Burt standing in front of the door.
It was blowing half a gale now, and the wind was bitterly cold.
There came a melancholy rasping and rustling from the leafless wood, and
every now and again a sharp crackling sound would announce that some
rotten branch had come crashing down. The clouds drove across the face
of the moon, so that at times the cold, clear light silvered the dark
wood and the old monastery, while at others all was plunged in darkness.
From the open door a broad golden bar was shot across the lawn from the
lamp in the hall. The three dark figures with their long fantastic
shadows looked eerie and unnatural in the yellow glare.
"Are we to have a lantern?" asked Burt.
"No, no," cried Ezra. "We shall see quite enough as it is. We don't
want a light."
"I have one," said the father. "We can use it if it is necessary.
I think we had better take our places now. She may come sooner than we
expect. It will be well to leave the door as it is. She will see that
there is no obstacle in the way."
"You're not half sharp enough," said Ezra. "If the door was left like
that it might suggest a trap to her. Better close the dining-room door
and then leave the hall door just a little ajar. That would look more
natural. She would conclude that Burt and you were in there."
"Where are Jorrocks and Rebecca?" Girdlestone asked, closing the door as
suggested.
"Jorrocks is in her room. Rebecca, I have no doubt, is in hers also."
"Things look safe enough. Come along, Burt. This way."
The three tramped their way across the gravelled drive and over the
slushy grass to the border of the wood.
"This is the withered oak," said Girdlestone, as a dark mass loomed in
front of them. It stood somewhat apart from the other trees, and the
base of it was free from the brambles which formed a thick undergrowth
elsewhere.
Burt walked round the great trunk and made as careful an examination of
the ground as he could in the dark.
"Would the lantern be of any use to you?" Girdlestone asked.
"No, It's all serene. I think I know how to fix it now. You two can
get behind those trees, or where you like, as long as you're not in the
way. I don't want no 'sistance. When Jem Burt takes a job in hand he
carries it through in a workmanlike manner. I don't want nobody else
foolin' around."
"We would not dream of interfering with your arrangements," said
Girdlestone.
"You'd better not!" Burt growled. "I'll lay down behind this oak, d'ye
see. When she comes, she'll think as he's not arrived yet, and she'll
get standin' around and waitin'. When I see my chance, I'll get behind
her, and she'll never know that she has not been struck by lightnin'."
"Excellent!" cried John Girdlestone; "excellent! We had best get into
our places."
"Mind you do it all in one crack," Ezra said. "Don't let us have any
crying out afterwards. I could stand a good deal, but not that."
"You should know how I hits," Burt remarked with a malicious grin, which
was hidden from his companion. "If your head wasn't well nigh solid you
wouldn't be here now."
Ezra's hand involuntarily went up to the old scar. "I think such a one
as that would settle her!" he said, as he withdrew with his father.
The two took up their position under the shadow of some trees fifty
yards off or more. Burt crouched down behind the withered oak with his
weapon in his hand and waited for the coming of his victim.
Ezra, though usually resolute and daring, had completely lost his nerve,
and his teeth were chattering in his head. His father, on the other
hand, was emotionless and impassive as ever.
"It's close upon nine o'clock," Ezra whispered.
"Ten minutes to," said the other, peering at his great golden
chronometer through the darkness.
"What if she fails to come?"
"We must devise other means of bringing her out."
From the spot where they stood they had a view of the whole of the
Priory. She could not come out without being seen. Above the door was
a long narrow window which opened upon the staircase. On this
Girdlestone and his son fixed their eyes, for they knew that on her way
down she would be visible at it. As they looked, the dim light which
shone through it was obscured and then reappeared.
"She has passed!"
"Hush!"
Another moment and the door was stealthily opened. Once again the broad
golden bar shot out across the lawn almost to the spot where the
confederates were crouching. In the centre of the zone of light there
stood a figure--the figure of the girl. Even at that distance they
could distinguish the pearl-grey mantle which she usually wore and the
close-fitting bonnet. She had wrapped a shawl round the lower part of
her face to protect her from the boisterous wind. For a minute or more
she stood peering out into the darkness of the night, as though
uncertain whether to proceed or to go back. Then, with a quick, sudden
gesture she closed the door behind her. The light was no longer there,
but they knew that she was outside the house, and that the appointment
would be kept.
What an age it seemed before they heard her footsteps. She came very
slowly, putting one foot gingerly before the other, as if afraid of
falling over something in the darkness. Once or twice she stopped
altogether, looking round, no doubt, to make sure of her whereabouts.
At that instant the moon shone out from behind a cloud, and they saw her
dark figure a short distance on. The light enabled her to see the
withered oak, for she came rapidly towards it. As she approached, she
satisfied herself apparently that she was the first on the ground, for
she slackened her pace once more and walked in the listless way that
people assume when they are waiting. The clouds were overtaking the
moon again, and the light was getting dimmer.
"I can see her still," said Ezra in a whisper, grasping his father's
wrist in his excitement.
The old man said nothing, but he peered through the darkness with eager,
straining eyes.
"There she is, standing out a little from the oak," the young merchant
said, pointing with a quivering finger. "She's not near enough for him
to reach her."
"He's coming out from the shadow now," the other said huskily.
"Don't you see him crawling along the ground?"
"I see him," returned the other in the same subdued, awestruck voice.
"Now he has stopped; now he goes on again! My God, he's close behind
her! She is looking the other way."
A thin ray of light shot down between the clouds. In its silvery
radiance two figures stood out hard and black, that of the unconscious
girl and of the man who crouched like a beast of prey behind her.
He made a step forward, which brought him within a yard of her. She may
have heard the heavy footfall above the shriek of the storm, for she
turned suddenly and faced him. At the same instance she was struck down
with a crashing blow. There was no time for a prayer, no time for a
scream. One moment had seen her a magnificent woman in all the pride of
her youthful beauty, the next left her a poor battered, senseless wreck.
The navvy had earned his blood-money.
At the sound of the blow and the sight of the fall both the old man and
the young ran out from their place of concealment. Burt was standing
over the body, his bludgeon in his hand.
"Not even a groan!" he said. "What d'ye think of that?"
Girdlestone wrung his hand and congratulated him warmly. "Shall I light
the lantern?" he asked.
"For God's sake, don't!" Ezra said earnestly.
"I had no idea that you were so faint-hearted, my son," the merchant
remarked. "However, I know the way to the gate well enough to go there
blindfold. What a comfort it is to know that there is no blood about!
That's the advantage of a stick over a knife."
"You're correct there, guv'nor," Burt said approvingly.
"Will you kindly carry one end and I'll take the other. I'll go first,
if you don't mind, because I know the way best. The train will pass in
less than half an hour, so we have not long to wait. Within that time
every chance of detection will have gone."
Girdlestone raised up the head of the murdered girl, and Burt took her
feet. Ezra walked behind as though he were in some dreadful dream.
He had fully recognized the necessity for the murder, but he had never
before realized how ghastly the details would be. Already he had begun
to repent that he had ever acquiesced in it. Then came thoughts of the
splendid possibilities of the African business, which could only be
saved from destruction by this woman's death. How could he, with his
luxurious tastes, bear the squalor and poverty which would be his lot
were the firm to fail? Better a rope and a long drop than such a life
as that! All these considerations thronged into his mind as he plodded
along the slippery footpath which led through the forest to the wooden
gate.