THE COLONEL DREAMS, AND I AWAKEN
I SLEPT until late the next morning. I have always been accustomed to a
clear eight hours' sleep, and, as I did not get between the sheets until
about four in the morning, I naturally did not awaken until mid-day. So
what with my tub and the necessity for shaving, my early morning call
upon the Colonel did not come off. I suppose, as a matter of fact, I sat
down to breakfast just about the time when the gastronomic warrior was
thinking of luncheon. However, when I saw how amply my expectation of a
change in the weather had been fulfilled, I did not regret my lengthy
sleep. From a sodden grey sky sheets of water were steadily pouring.
There was not the slightest chance of any break in the clouds.
Consequently I felt assured of finding Miss Maitland at home if I made
my call in the afternoon, and since her father oftentimes thought it
expedient to take a little repose after luncheon in order to prepare
himself for the fatigue of dining, it was possible that I might even be
fortunate enough to secure a _tete-a-tete_ with her.
I came to my breakfast, therefore, with as good a spirit as appetite,
neither being in the slightest degree affected by the memory of the easy
way in which I had been plundered by the Motor Pirate. Of course I felt
a certain chagrin. Still, I could contemplate the adventure with a
considerable deal more equanimity than I had managed to display the
night before, though I found that my curiosity concerning him had, if
anything, increased. I turned with eagerness to the morning papers to
see whether they could add to my knowledge concerning him.
As every one is aware, all the papers on the morning of the first of
April that year devoted columns to his exploits. If I remember aright,
the country was at that time engaged upon two of our usual minor wars,
Parliament was in the midst of an important debate upon the second
reading of a measure to secure an extension of the franchise, and a
divorce case of more than common interest was engaging the attention of
the leading legal lights of the law courts. But all these things
received but the scantiest notice. The war news was relegated to the
inside pages, the Parliamentary intelligence cut down to the barest
summary, the _cause celebre_ dismissed with such a paragraph as
ordinarily serves to chronicle an unimportant police court case. The
Motor Pirate had nearly a monopoly of the space at the editorial
disposal. There was column after column about him. The Plymouth robbery
was reported in as great detail as the Compton Chamberlain affair, while
there were particulars of two similar outrages committed at points
between these two places.
On running my eye over the reports I saw that they added nothing to what
I already knew, and I wasted no time in reading the leaders on the
subject. I was, however, extremely interested to find from one paper
that Winter and I had not been the only victims of the scoundrel's
rapacity on the previous evening, for a brief telegram reported a
similar occurrence a few miles from Oxford on the London road. I at once
sent my man to purchase any of the early editions of the evening papers
which might have reached St. Albans, in the hope that they might contain
further particulars of these operations.
I had finished my breakfast, and was enjoying a cigarette in my library,
when he returned. I took the papers from him, and the first glance at
one of them made me gasp with amazement. The news which startled me was
all in one line--"Five more cars held up by the Motor Pirate."
I am not going into details concerning these. If you have a desire to
refresh your memory all you have to do is to turn to any newspaper of
the date I have named and you will be able to get them _ad nauseam_. But
I will venture to give a list of the places where and the times at which
the outrages took place, for I made a list of them in the hope that, by
carefully studying it with the map, I might get some idea as to where he
might next be expected to make his appearance.
I found that at five minutes past nine he stopped a car some four miles
from Oxford. Twenty minutes later he was robbing a lonely motorist
midway between Thame and Aylesbury. Then for forty minutes he appeared
to have been idle, his next two exploits taking place within five
minutes of each other, just after ten, in the neighbourhood of Amersham.
King's Langley was the scene of his next adventure, the time given being
about a quarter of an hour before he had overtaken us. In addition to
the particulars of these robberies there were a host of reports from
people who had seen the Pirate car pass them on the road. But there was
one notable omission from the latter list. Not from a single town was
there any record of the Pirate having been seen passing through it.
I got a map of the district, and, after studying the country carefully,
I was fain to confess that one of two things was certain: either the
Motor Pirate had the power to make his car invisible at will, or else he
had a truly phenomenal knowledge of the bye-roads. How he had even
managed to get to Oxford, after his exploits in the West of England,
without arrest, puzzled me. The car was so unique in shape that it
seemed bound to excite observation. It could not have been put up at any
hotel, any more than it could have been run through the country by
daylight, without exciting remark and its presence being chronicled.
What, then, had he done with it? The more I pondered the question the
more puzzled I became, and at the same time the more determined to seek
a solution of the mystery. But how? I made a dozen plans, all of which,
upon consideration, appeared so futile, that I gave up the game in
despair, and decided to see if my brain would not become clearer after I
had paid my promised visit to Colonel Maitland.
I did not find Miss Maitland alone, as I expected, or I might probably
have been tempted to confide my experience to her, and to have asked the
assistance of her woman's wit in putting me on the track of a solution
to the mystery. Mannering was with her. When I made my appearance in the
drawing-room, and found him enjoying a _tete-a-tete_, I cursed myself
for delaying my call and thus giving him such an opportunity. My temper
was not improved either by the discovery that they were sufficiently
engrossed in conversation to have been able very well to dispense with
my presence. I did not feel called upon to leave Mannering a clear
field, however, so I joined in the discussion, and tried my hardest to
be pleasant.
Of course, there was only one possible topic of conversation, the theme
which was uttermost in every one's mind throughout the length and
breadth of the land. It was a difficult subject for me to discuss, and
in a measure it was a difficult subject for Mannering, inasmuch as it
was hard to refrain from reference to the personal experience we had had
with the Motor Pirate. It became increasingly difficult, when a few
minutes after my arrival Colonel Maitland joined us.
"It was lucky for him he did not meet us, hey, Sutgrove?" said the
Colonel. "You, Winter, and myself, would soon settle a Motor Pirate,
wouldn't we?"
I muttered something which would pass for an assent, while Mannering
shot an amused smile in my direction.
"I wonder though we saw nothing of him," continued Maitland; "he must
have been very near us last night."
"He seems to have been everywhere," I answered.
"He has the ubiquity of a De Wet," said Mannering.
"I hope I shall have a chance of meeting him sometime," I continued
grimly.
Colonel Maitland chuckled. "Heavens! What a fire-eater you are,
Sutgrove. One might almost take you for a sub in a cavalry regiment."
I made no answer, and Miss Maitland remarked--"I think that is very
unkind of you. You spoke of the Motor Pirate as if you owed him a
grudge. I think we all ought to be supremely thankful to him for having
made the wettest day we have had this year pass quite pleasantly."
Bear him a grudge? I should think I did, but at the same time, I had no
intention of confessing the reason, so I said--
"Then we'll drink long life and prosperity to him the next time we have
a bottle of that same port your father approved so highly last night."
Then I turned to the Colonel, and made a clumsy attempt to turn the
subject of conversation. "Is your verdict upon my restaurant equally
favourable to-day, sir?"
Colonel Maitland's eyes twinkled. "I have nothing to regret. As for the
port with which we finished, it seems to me the sort of stuff dreams are
made of. Do you know that the glass I drank--was it one glass or
two?--gave me the most vivid dream I have enjoyed since my childhood?"
"Indeed! Let's hear it, Colonel," I replied.
"Do tell us," said his daughter, as she rose from her seat, and put her
arms coaxingly round her father's neck. "Do tell us like a real, good,
kind, old-fashioned parent."
The Colonel passed his hand lovingly over his daughter's sunny hair.
"Sutgrove and Mannering don't want to hear about an old fellow's silly
dreams," he said. "Besides, it was all about the Motor Pirate, and I can
see that Sutgrove for one is quite sick of the subject."
I was, and I wasn't, but I speedily declared that I was not when I saw
that his daughter was bent upon hearing the story. So he started upon a
prosy description as to how the fresh air had sent him to sleep, not
saying a word about the port, and I ceased to listen to him, preferring
to devote the whole of my attention to his daughter, who had seated
herself upon a footstool at his feet, and was looking up into his face
with a pretty affectionate glance in her deep blue eyes, enough to set
any one longing to be the recipient of similar regard. Her form,
attitude, expression, all made so deep an impression upon me, that I
have only to close my eyes at any time to see her just as she was
then--the little witch! She knew full well how to make the most of her
attractions, and though she has often declared since to me that the pose
was quite unpremeditated, I could never quite believe her.
However that may be, I was so fascinated in watching her--there was one
stray curl which lay like a strand of woven gold upon her brow. Confound
it! It's all very well for the fellow who writes fiction for a living to
write about people's emotions. He is cold himself. If he were like me,
and wished to describe his own feelings, he might find himself in the
same difficulty as myself, and give up the attempt.
The Colonel's voice droned on. Suddenly I awoke to the consciousness
that he was speaking of me. I think it was the fact of his daughter
looking at me which recalled me to attention.
"Sutgrove had just looked back to see if I was comfortable, when he saw
another car on the road behind us. We had not long passed through
Radlett. You know the straight stretch of road just past the new Dutch
barn on the left----"
My attention did not wander any more, and you may imagine my
astonishment at hearing the Colonel describe in minute detail everything
which had befallen us upon the previous evening. He could tell a story
when he liked, and on this occasion his description of the shamefaced
manner in which Winter had scrambled out of his car, and had handed over
his valuables to the Motor Pirate, was so ludicrous that I was
compelled to laugh at the description. When my turn came to be
described, Miss Maitland and Mannering were just as much amused, but I
am afraid that my attempt to participate in their mirth was rather
forced.
When the story was done, Miss Maitland rose from her seat at her
father's feet, and, putting a hand on each of his shoulders--
"You dear, delightful old fibber!" she remarked. "I don't believe you
dreamed that at all. You couldn't." Then she wheeled round on me. "Now
tell me, Mr. Sutgrove, didn't that dream of father's really happen to
you last night?"
What course was open to me but confession? I admitted the truth of the
story, and the Colonel was so choked with merriment, that I feared lest
he should be stricken with apoplexy.
"The cream of the joke," he explained, when he recovered his powers of
speech, "was that neither Winter nor Sutgrove had the slightest idea
that I was foxing. I intended to inform them directly we were clear of
the Pirate; but when I heard them discussing the matter, and determining
to keep silence out of tenderness for my reputation, I could not resist
keeping up the joke."
"I should think it was their own reputations they were thinking about,"
said his daughter. "To submit so tamely to one man is not a very heroic
proceeding."
I heard Mannering chuckle, and I felt mad. But I fancy it was not
Mannering's amusement, but my own consciousness of the truth of the
criticism that galled.
Colonel Maitland came to my rescue. "I thought they were very sensible,"
he said. "Even a cripple with a gun is better than six sound Tommies
unarmed."
"Sensible--yes," she replied scornfully. "But there are times when one
prefers a little less sense, and a little more--shall we say action. I
am sure you would not have obeyed so tamely?" she continued, turning to
Mannering.
He smiled, and I felt as if it would give me exquisite pleasure to catch
him by the throat, and twist the smile out of his dark, handsome face.
"Really, Miss Maitland," he replied, "you flatter me. You should not be
too hard on Sutgrove. I am sure that it was only the full comprehension
of his own helplessness which prevented him making a fight of it. What
could he have done?"
"Oh, a man should always know what to do!" she answered petulantly. "Has
any one ever tried to hold you up?"
"Well, yes," he answered. "Once when I was out in the west of the
States, some of the regulation bands tried the game on a train in which
I was travelling. But then, you see, the conductor in the railway-car in
which I happened to be seated had a six-shooter. So had I. The other
passengers got as near the floor as they possibly could when the
shooting began. I was in pretty good practice in those days, don't you
know, so the other chaps didn't get much of a look in. We took the four
they left behind them when they bolted on to the next station with us.
Three of them were buried there, if I remember aright."
"There," said Miss Maitland, with an unmistakable look of admiration in
her eyes; "I knew you were different."
"But then I was armed. If I had not been, I should have been on the
floor with the other passengers."
In reply she merely gave him one glance. Mannering returned it with one
equally eloquent. I rose, and stalked to the window. To me Mannering's
championship was an aggravation which I could not bear. Harder still was
it for me to observe the understanding which obviously existed between
him and Miss Maitland. Hitherto I had imagined that I had as good a
chance of winning her love as he had. But at this moment I felt that my
hopes had been shattered.
I think if I had remained a moment longer in the room, I should have
been unable to restrain an impulse to knock some of the self-sufficiency
out of my rival. I left.
Colonel Maitland followed me out, and I heard him ask me to dine with
him on the following day to wipe off the score he owed me.
Without thinking, I accepted. Then I went out into the rain.