Roach looked puffy, and especially so beneath the eyes, where a couple
of pendulous bags disfigured his important-looking countenance.
Unkind people would have said that the flushed aspect was due to
drinking, but he was perfectly steady as he got out of a hansom cab, in
company with Arthur, after a short run up to town, where they had
arrived by a fast train that afternoon, and taking the two small, light
portmanteaus which the driver handed down, each threw his overcoat
across his arm, and they walked together round the corner into Highcombe
Street, made for the Clareboroughs' town house, tried the area gate,
which, as they expected, was locked, and went up the steps to the front
door.
"How do you feel, Arthur?" whispered Roach.
"Right as the mail, old man. Now then, no gammon. You keep your pecker
up, and do the talking, and I'll do the business. There's nothing to
mind."
"Nothing to mind?" said Roach, as he raised his hand towards the
servants' bell, but did not ring.
"Only the handcuffs if we don't do what we want and clear off."
Roach groaned.
"Don't be a fool, old man," whispered the footman. "As I told you, we
must do it now. The game's up, and you know what Jemmy is. There'll be
no mercy, so let's make our hay while the sun shines. Pull the bell."
With trembling hand Roach rang the servants' bell, and then drew a deep
breath.
"That's right, old man, pull yourself together. Think it's going to be
a lark, and after it a fortune for us both."
"Yes, I'm going to be firm now," growled Roach, hoarsely. "It's our
only chance, Orthur, so stand by me."
"Like an iron post, old man. That's the way, jolly's the style. Here
she comes."
They caught a glimpse of the housekeeper at the side window, and
directly after the door was open.
"Good-morning, ma'am," began the butler.
"Good-morning, Mrs Barron, ma'am," said Arthur.
She looked sternly from one to the other, without making way for them to
enter.
"Why are you two men up in town?" she said harshly.
"Well, the fact is, ma'am, I had a little bit o' business to do about my
savings in the sweet threes, and as the gentlemen were all in Paris, and
the ladies were not expecting any company, I made so bold as to ask Mrs
James Clareborough to spare me till to-morrow night and let Orthur come
with me, for I don't like going through money matters without a
witness."
"Oh," said the housekeeper, speaking with her lips very close together,
but without drawing back. "Then why have you both come here? This is
not a broker's."
"No, ma'am, of course not," said Arthur, with a little laugh.
"I was not speaking to you, sir," said the housekeeper, turning upon him
suddenly. "Have the goodness to keep your place."
"Certainly, ma'am. Beg pardon, ma'am."
"Now, Mr Roach; what do you want here?"
"Want here, ma'am?" stammered the butler; "want here? Why, I can't go
to my broker without my warrants."
The housekeeper's pale face looked more pinched than ever as she gazed
searchingly at the other, who looked completely taken aback; and then
she darted a sharp glance at Arthur, who evidently expected it and did
not look, but busied himself in bringing a little bit of vanity well
into sight, the said piece of vanity taking the shape of a couple of
bronze fox-head cuff studs, which he drew beyond the sleeves of his
coat.
"You can go down into your pantry and get what you require," said the
housekeeper, coldly, and she made way for the butler to enter. Arthur
was about to follow. "No," she said sharply, "you can wait."
"Wait--here, ma'am?"
"Yes," said the housekeeper, decisively, and she made as if to shut the
door. "Or, no; you can sit down inside."
Arthur brightened up, and stepped in jauntily, the housekeeper closing
the door.
"You need not take your portmanteau down with you, Roach."
"No, ma'am, of course not," said the butler, respectfully.
"Here, I'll mind that, Mr Roach, sir," said the footman, stepping
forward to take the valise, after standing his own on end.
The butler was a few steps in the hall, the housekeeper between them,
and a little on Arthur's right, as he took a step forward, taking his
overcoat from his arm and shaking it out the while, as if about to
double it afresh. Then, quick as thought, he stepped aside, threw it
over the woman's head, and twisted it together. "Now, old man; her
legs, sharp!"
Roach stood for a moment as if bewildered. Then at an oath from his
companion, he stepped forward, threw his arms round the struggling
woman's legs, lifted her up, and in spite of her smothered cries bore
her right to the end of the passage.
"Down with her; pantry," said the footman, sharply, and they carried her
quickly down the basement to the butler's pantry, where they laid her on
the table.
"Fetch the trunks, old man," said Arthur, loudly. "I can manage.
Quiet, you old cat, or I'll choke you!"
He tightened the coat with a couple, of twists as he spoke, but the
faint cry continued.
"Bah! let her squeak; she might howl for a month, and no one could
hear."
This, for the butler looked unnerved. He went up directly, though, and
as soon as he was gone Arthur put his face to the coat, close to the old
lady's ear.
"You just listen," he said. "You've had your innings, and led me a
pretty devil of a life with your nasty ways. It's my turn now. Quiet,
curse you! Stop that row, or as sure as you're a living woman now,
you'll want a coffin to-morrow."
"What--what is it you want. Money?" came faintly.
"Never you mind what we want, old girl. There, you needn't kick and
struggle; we don't want to carry you off and marry you by force, so lie
still. Ah, that's right; look sharp. My Gladstone, not yours. Get out
the rope."
The butler, whose face was now mottled with white patches, opened one of
the portmanteaus and took out a cord.
"Now come here and lay hold. If she begins to squeal again, tighten
your grip a bit."
But the woman lay perfectly still now, and she did not even wince when
the footman twisted the rope tightly round her ankles and knotted it
fast.
"Now then, over on her face, guv'nor. I must have these wrists tied
behind, or she may begin to scratch."
The helpless woman was turned over, her wrists firmly secured, and she
was then laid on her side and the coat taken off, to reveal her wide,
staring eyes, and teeth set, with the lips drawn right away.
"You've killed her, my boy," whispered the butler in a hoarse voice.
"Bah! Old cats like that have got nine lives," said the man,
contemptuously. "Here, give me a clean glass cloth, and I'll shove a
gag in her mouth."
"No, no. She's bad enough as it is," whispered the butler. "Let her
be."
The footman looked at the old housekeeper dubiously, and then
unwillingly gave up his project.
"Shall we put her in the plate-closet? I have the key."
Arthur laughed.
"Why, that would smother her in half an hour. No; help me to lay her
down on the hearth-rug. We can come and look at her now and then. But
she won't move. We've pretty well frightened her to death."
Judging from appearances, this was the case, and after laying the
unfortunate woman on the hearth-rug, they took portmanteaus and coats
and hurried out into the main passage, then into that which went off at
right angles, to stop in front of the lobby door.