Next moment, his wits in action again, Bullard made for the table, closed
the deep drawer, and threw himself on an easy chair, hissing at the
gaping Lancaster, "Sit down, you fool!"
Lancaster collapsed on the couch as Caw, bearing a salver with decanters,
a syphon, and glasses, entered the room.
"Your doors open quietly enough," remarked Bullard.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Craig disliked unnecessary noise." He presented the
salver to Lancaster, who mixed himself a brandy and soda with
considerable splutter.
While he was doing so, Bullard produced from his breast pocket a
pale-green folded paper--a hotel bill, as a matter of fact--and gaily
waved it, crying--"You see, we have found it, Caw, without much trouble!"
"In your pocket, sir?"
"On this chair, which I was sitting on yesterday."
"Indeed, sir! Then you are quite satisfied, sir?"
"Perfectly. By the way, Caw--no, I'll take whiskey--are you aware
that the stones in that pendulum over there are worth a couple of
thousand pounds?"
"If you say so, sir."
"Are you interested in diamonds, Caw?"
"Very much, sir--from an artistic point of view, sir."
"Their value does not interest you?"
"It does not excite me, sir."
"A capital answer! You have seen Mr. Craig's collection?"
"Frequently, sir."
Bullard took a bundle of notes from his pocket. "I offer you ten pounds
to guess correctly the value of the collection."
"Six hundred thousand pounds, sir.... Thank you, sir." With supreme
stolidity Caw presented the salver as a waiter might do for his tip.
Though taken aback, the loser laughed. He took a long drink, and
laughed again.
"Excuse me, sir," said Caw, "but my master is still in the house."
Lancaster started, and took a hasty gulp, spilling a little.
"I beg your pardon--and his," said Bullard gravely. "But I am not often
'had.' Now, look here, Caw; I have still nine hundred and ninety pounds
here. They are yours, if you can tell me where the collection is at the
present moment."
The topmost thought in Caw's mind then was that the brutes might have had
the decency to have waited until his master was laid in the grave. He
felt helpless, powerless. He could not doubt that Bullard was playing
with him. And in view of the promise to his master he could do nothing to
prevent the crime, the desecration as he felt it to be. He could do
nothing but look on in silence while they searched, until they found--But
stay! he might as well despoil the spoilers when he had the chance.
"I will take your money, sir," he said, in an odd voice. "Look in the
bottom right-hand drawer in the writing table."
Bullard's eyebrows rose. Then he got up and, with his eyes on the
servant, opened the empty drawer.
Caw was within an ace of dropping the salver. After a moment he carried
it to a side table and set it down with a small crash. Turning, he looked
searchingly round the room. His gaze stopped at the curtain; he thought
he understood. They had had an accomplice outside! ... He seemed to glide
across to Bullard, and Bullard found himself looking into the barrel of a
stout revolver.
"Out o' the house, the pair o' ye," he ordered hoarsely, "or, by God,
I'll forget the holy dead!"
"But look here--"
"Not a word! Take your hats and go! You've got what you came for--"
"Listen, you madman!" Bullard held up a hand, the one with the
notes in it.
"Thanks!" With a flash-like movement Caw nipped away the notes. "You've
got to pay something!"
Springing round behind Bullard, he shoved the cold steel into the nape of
his neck. "March! and you, too, Mr. Lancaster. Take your friend's hat!"
Ignoring his colleague's gaze, which had moved suggestively from himself
to the fire-irons, Lancaster obeyed and made for the door.
"You'll be devilish sorry," began Bullard, beside himself--
"Another word, and you'll lose one ear--to begin with. March!"
Sullenly Bullard moved forward. Not until he was in the garden did
he attempt speech, and then his voice was thick, though fairly
under control.
"Well, my man," he said, "you've got yourself into a nasty hole. Robbery,
with a revolver in your hand, is rather seriously regarded by the law.
But as you have acted on impulse and misapprehension, I am disposed to
give you a chance. Restore those notes--"
"Looks like being a wet night," said Caw, and shut the outer door.
When he had made it fast he switched off the lights in the hall and went
upstairs. In his master's room he wavered, and his eyes rested longingly
on the decanters, for he was feeling the reaction. But he was a good
servant still, and it would be "hardly the thing" to take a dram there
and then. Yet he forgot the conventions of service when, a moment later,
he sank upon a chair and bowed his head on his master's table, sick at
heart, sore in pride. He had been so easily tricked! And yet what
difference would it have made if they had walked out of the room with the
Green Box in their possession? But he was very sure they would not have
dared so greatly, unless, perhaps, with force of arms--in which case,
despite all promises, he knew he would have resisted. It never occurred
to Caw to doubt his master's sanity, but now he began to wonder what had
possessed Mr. Craig in regard to the Green Box. Six hundred thousand
pounds! He seemed to see his master seated at the table, calmly naming
the stupendous sum--and in the same instant he realised that he himself
was sitting in his master's place. He sprang up, and almost fell over the
open drawer. He stooped to close it, straightened up with an exclamation,
only to drop to his knees, staring, staring at--the Green Box! Suddenly
he gave a short chuckle, rose, and made for the door in the back wall.
Ere he reached it, it opened. A girl came in.
He was taken aback, and she was first to speak.
"Would you mind shaking hands?" said she.
"Miss Handyside, was it you?" he cried, taking her hand with diffidence.
She nodded. "At least, I suppose so, for it all happened so quickly that
I'm still in a state of wonder."
"It was splendid, miss! I shall never be able to thank you."
"I couldn't help doing it, though I'm not used to adventures. It was all
done on an impulse."
"Woman's wit, miss, if you'll excuse my saying so."
"Well, I was in the dark in more senses than one, but the proceedings of
those two gentlemen were so peculiar, to say the least of it, that I felt
justified in playing the spy."
"When did you arrive on the scene, miss?" Caw enquired, removing his
admiring glance. For several years he had adored the doctor's
daughter--from a strictly artistic point of view, as he would have
explained it--and undoubtedly Marjorie had her attractions, though it
would be difficult to analyse and tabulate them. A Scot with more
perception than descriptive powers would have called her bonny. To go
into brief detail, she had nut-brown hair, eyes of unqualified grey, a
complexion suggesting sea-air, splendid teeth in a humorously inclined
mouth, and a nicely rounded chin. Very few people have beautiful noses;
on the other hand, not the most beautiful nose will redeem an otherwise
unattractive countenance, whereas an ordinary nondescript nose in a
charming face simply becomes part of it. Marjorie's was nondescript, but
did not turn up or droop excessively. Without being guilty of stoutness,
she lacked the poorly nourished look of so many young women of the day.
"I must explain why I arrived at all," she said, in answer to Caw's
question. "I came with a message from the doctor--he twisted his ankle in
the dark--not seriously, but quite badly enough to prevent his coming
along himself. Well, when I reached the door I noticed from a thread of
light that it was not absolutely shut--"
"My fault, miss. I was just about to come along for the night when the
ring came."
"Then I heard voices--faintly--but clearly enough for me to judge they
were those of strangers, and I was going to go back when I heard a voice
say 'Lancaster, we've got it first time!' I'm ashamed to say my curiosity
was too much for me--"
"Thank God for female curiosity, miss, if you'll excuse my saying so."
She checked a laugh. "You know how quietly the door works, I switched
off the light behind me and opened it slightly--all trembles, I assure
you--and looked in. The younger man was lifting a greenish box from a
drawer to the writing-table, and the other man seemed half-paralysed
with nervousness." She proceeded to relate what the reader already knows
up to the episode of the window. "Then, with my heart in my mouth, I
opened the door wide and stole in. The faint light from the water guided
me to the table, but I almost lost my way going back with the box. I
think they did hear something, but I was in safety by the time they
could have turned their light into the room. But now I had closed the
door tight, and could hear no more except indistinct voices, among which
I fancied I heard yours. You were talking angrily, I think. And after a
while there was a silence, and I waited and waited until I could wait no
longer. Is it true," she asked abruptly, "that there are sixty thousand
pounds' worth--"
"Six hundred thousand pounds, miss."
"Oh! ... But why was it not in a safe place? And who were those men?
And what--"
"It will be necessary," said Caw, as one coming to a decision, "to
tell you all about it, Miss Handyside. My master said I might trust
you. It's too much," he added, "for me to carry alone. And if you
think the doctor--"
"Goodness!" she exclaimed; "he'll be wondering what has come over me--and
I've forgotten to give you his message! It was just to tell that he
thought it was time you were leaving here for your new quarters."
"Very good, miss. I'll come now."
"But are you going to leave the box there?"
"Got to--master's orders."
"Extraordinary! It's locked, I suppose?"
"Yes, miss; and last night, or, rather, this morning, at 12:15 by the
clock, I threw the key into the loch--master's orders."
"You are sure the diamonds are in it now?"
"I was the last to see them and shut them in--master's orders."
"Oh, I can't take in any more! Let us consult the doctor at once."
Presently they passed out by the way the girl had entered, closing the
door behind them. They were at the top of a narrow and rather steep
staircase of many steps covered with rubber. Descending they were in a
tunnel seven feet high and four in width, so long that in the distance
the sides seemed to come together. Roof and walls were white; light was
supplied from bulbs overhead. The atmosphere was fresh, though the means
of ventilation were not visible. Here again they trod on rubber.
Christopher Craig had caused the tunnel to be constructed as soon as he
realised the truth about his malady; but it was primarily the outcome of
a joking remark by Handyside after a midnight summons in mid-winter. It
should be said here that at first Handyside had demurred becoming his
neighbour's physician, but growing friendship with the lonely man had
gradually eliminated his scruples. The tunnel had been a costly
undertaking, the more so owing to the hurrying of its construction, but
Christopher would have told you that its existence had saved his life on
more than one occasion. The secret of the doors, by the way, was known
only to himself and Caw, Dr. Handyside and Marjorie.