into the drawing-room, making him open his thick lips in fish like
fashion once again as if to speak; but a prod in the ribs given by the
sergeant's forefinger forced obedience, and he went out unwillingly into
the porch.
The sergeant returned to Waller, who was standing in the middle of the
room with his hands in his pockets, whistling an old country ditty
softly, while the two soldiers made a pretence of searching the room,
and then looked for orders from their officer.
"You haven't looked up the chimney, my lads," cried Waller, laughing.
"Oh, you needn't stare; there's plenty of room in it for a horse to get
up," and he laughingly stepped forward into the wide chimney-corner.
"Look here, officer, you don't often see a place like this."
"My word, no, sir!" said the sergeant, stooping down and following
Waller into the great wide place. "They used to build in the old days,
and make room for the smoke. Why, the ivy's hanging right down through
the top."
"Yes," said Waller: "plenty of ivy here. Now you'd like to see the
library?"
This was looked into, and then a slight search was made of what Waller
called the schoolroom, and a little, old-fashioned boudoir.
"That's all here," said the boy, "except the servant's places."
"What about the cellar, sir?" said the sergeant.
"Oh, we'll go into that through the outer hall," and, Waller, leading
the way, the searchers passed through the various offices, and, on
lights being provided and a big key being fetched from the squire's
study table, the big, crypt-like, vaulted cellars were searched from end
to end. Lastly, Waller led the way upstairs to the gallery, where the
oaken polished floor echoed to the soldiers' heavy tread.
"Where does that staircase lead, sir?" said the sergeant, as his task
drew near its end.
"Attics in the roof," said Waller. "Up you go."
"Well, sir, I am getting rather tired of this job," said the man,
hesitating.
"Oh, but you have got it to do. Finish it off," said Waller carelessly;
and he made way for the soldiers to pass up, and stood below swinging
himself to and fro, balancing himself toe and heel.
"Come on, my lads," said the sergeant. "Forward, and be smart. I am
thinking that crust of bread and cheese must be ready by now."
The men laughed good-humouredly, and the bare staircase creaked and
groaned beneath their heavy tread, which directly afterwards made the
upper passage, with its sloping ceiling, which followed the shapes of
the gables, echo.
That part of the search was quickly done, not so quickly that it did not
give time to Waller to whistle the stave of the old Hampshire ditty
three times over.
He had just got to the last bar for this third time when the butt of the
sergeant's musket was dropped with a heavy bang upon the floor overhead.
"Beg pardon, sir," he shouted down to Waller. "There's one of these
'ere doors locked!"
"Eh?" cried Waller, whose face now looked scarlet, and who stood for a
moment or two holding his breath.
"One door here locked, sir. I ought to see into every room."
"Oh, to be sure! That's my den," cried the boy cavalierly--"my
workshop. I am coming," and springing up two steps at a time he faced
the sergeant, who, with two men, was waiting by the locked door.
Waller thrust his hand into his pocket, and the sergeant looked at him
sharply, for his breath, possibly from the exertion, came thick and
fast, while the key seemed to stick in his pocket as if it had got
across.
"There you are," he said jauntily. "It's full of my rubbish and odds
and ends. Catch!"
He pitched the key, and the sergeant caught it with one hand as cleverly
as if he had been a cricketer, turned, and began to insert it in the
lock.
"Mind the snakes!" cried Waller mockingly; while, in spite of a strong
effort, he felt half choked, and his voice sounded strained and hard.
"Snakes?" said the sergeant, pausing with the key half turned. "Up
here?"
"Yes," said Waller; "at least a dozen. I am a collector, you know."
The sergeant gave him a searching look, hesitated a moment, and then,
with a half-smile upon his lip, he turned the key. The bolt flew back
with a sharp snap and he threw open the door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
STILL SEARCHING.
With a mingling of instinct and the practice of the profession, the
sergeant's two followers brought down their muskets to the present as
the door flew wide, presumably to meet the attack of the snakes, but the
curled and dried-up skins, so light without the sand that a sharp puff
of wind would have blown them away, lay still upon the shelf, and there
was no rush for escape made by Godfrey Boyne. The place, full of its
litter of odds and ends dear to the young naturalist, and with its open
windows, lay open to the gaze of the soldiers, and the sergeant, after a
sharp look round, which satisfied him that the place was empty, turned
to Waller.
"I thought it meant game, sir," he said. "Where's your sarpints?"
"Yonder on the shelf," said Waller, with a mischievous look in his eyes.
"Yah! Stuffed! Well, sir, we have done; and thank you for being so
nice to us over an unpleasant job."
"Oh, don't name it, sergeant," said Waller coolly.
"Right about face, my lads! Forward! March!--Halt!--About that there
window--how far is it to the ground?"
"Oh, nice little jump," said Waller coolly. "About thirty feet, I
suppose."
But though he spoke calmly there was a curious twitching at the corners
of the boy's eyes and his nether lip seemed to quiver as the stiff,
keen-looking man marched to the casement and leaned out, looking sharply
to right and left.
"Don't see any bits, sir, lying below," he said with a grim laugh. "No
one seems to have jumped out there. My word! You grow a fine lot of
ivy about this house, but I suppose it wasn't planted yesterday.--Now,
then, forward, my lads!" he continued; and then, with a laugh and a nod
to Waller, he jerked his right thumb in the direction of the men. "They
are not thinking of catching spies, sir, but about that bread and
cheese."
"Ah, well, they shall have it as soon as you have done," said Waller,
the nerves of whose face had ceased to twitch.
"Oh, we have done, sir," said the man, "and glad of it. This is not the
sort of thing I like. Don't seem proper work for soldiers. I have
done, sir, unless you have any other place you want us to search."
"Oh, not I," said Waller. "I shall be glad to see your backs."
The men began to descend, while Waller carefully locked the door and
pocketed his key.
"I don't like servants to meddle with my knick-knacks," he said.
"Of course you don't, sir. I used to be very fond of that sort of thing
when I was a boy, in Devon."
The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met
by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes
rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging
a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat.
"You ar'n't found them, then?" he said to the sergeant.
"No, constable; there's no spy here, French or English. It's all a
mare's nest, and you have brought us for nothing."
The constable's reply sent a pang through Waller, and brought him down
to zero.
"But you haven't been out on the roof?"
"No," said the sergeant mockingly, "nor we haven't been up the chimney.
My lads are neither sweeps nor tilers. Think he's flown up there?"
"No," said the constable with asperity; "but I think you haven't half
searched. Maybe he's hiding somewhere up in the ivy."
"Ho!" said the sergeant sharply. "Like a cock-sparrow or a rat, eh? I
tell you I have searched the place, and I have done."
"And I tell you you haven't half searched," cried the constable. "You
must get ladders and go all over the roof. I daresay he's hiding in the
ivy."
"Beg pardon, sergeant," said one of the men. "Didn't the good gentleman
say something about some lunch?"
"To be sure I did," said Waller, "and it will be ready in the kitchen by
now."
"Thank you, sir," said the sergeant grumpily. "I suppose we shall be
obliged to have a look at the roof from outside. I don't want to be
reported to my captain for not having done my duty. But look here, Mr
Constable," and to Waller's great relief the man turned his back upon
him and faced Gusset, while the boy felt as if he was turning white, and
his hands grew moist. "You gave information," continued the sergeant,
"and it seems to me that this is more your job than mine. How are we to
get up on the roof?"
"Ladder, of course," cried Gusset eagerly. "They have got long ones
here that they use for the apples and stacks. You must get up out at
the back."
"Oh, oh, oh!" groaned Waller to himself. "I should like to have you out
at the back!"
"Oh, very well," said the sergeant. "Out with you, my lads, and let's
get it over," and, as the men marched out, following the constable, who
seemed quite at home in the geography of the house, the sergeant stopped
to speak to Waller.
"There, sir, you see I can't help myself, so don't blame me."
"No," said Waller; and, in spite of his efforts, his voice sounded very
strange. But the man had turned away, and did not heed.
Gusset led the way into the big, open yard at the back, and, acting
under his directions, the soldiers followed to a low shed, beneath which
one of the long, thin, tapering ladders with straddling legs, used in
country places, hung upon two great iron pegs against the wall.
"There you are," said Gusset. "Bring it out! Quick!"
"Here, I say," snarled one of the men he addressed, "who are you
ordering about? You are not our sergeant."
"There, don't talk, my lads," cried that individual, coming up. "Bring
the ladder out and heave it up against that side of the house where the
roof slopes."
At that moment the gardener, who had, as it were, been taken by
surprise, and in the rear, came hurrying round from where he had been
waiting by the porch in a great state of excitement.
"Here, I say! Hold hard there!" he cried. "What are you doing with my
ladder? Let it be! I don't want that broke."
He turned to Waller as if to ask him to put a stop to it, but the boy
avoided his gaze, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and stood
frowning.
"Here, don't you interfere, Joe Hanson; you will be getting yourself
into trouble," spluttered Gusset, in his husky voice; and he
unconsciously blew out his cheeks and opened his eyes wider as he took a
fresh breath. "This here's all in the King's name."
"King's name!" cried the gardener sharply as he lifted his blue serge
apron and began to twist it up in a tail to tuck up round his waist.
"What's the King's name got to do with it? I am talking about my
ladder."
"There, there, gardener," said the sergeant, "don't stop us. I want to
get this job done. My boys don't understand ladders like you do;
perhaps you wouldn't mind pitching it up against the roof?"
"Oh, very well, sergeant," replied the gardener; "I don't mind when I am
asked civilly, but I am not going to have all the country cobblers in
Hampshire coming into my yard and meddling with the tools as is in my
charge. Here, that's not the way, swaddy," he continued, joining the
two soldiers, who, each still holding his musket in his hand, were
fumbling awkwardly with the long ladder in carrying it across the yard.
He smiled good-humouredly at the two stiff-strapped and buckled-up men,
and took hold of the ladder about the middle.
"There, drop its heel on the ground," he said, "and one of you put your
foot on the bottom round."
The soldier promptly obeyed, and the next minute, as the straddling
bottom of the ladder was kept down, the gardener ran his hands along
beneath it, thrusting it upward round by round till it was
perpendicular, when, grasping it firmly, one hand low down and arms
outstretched to the fullest extent, he walked quickly across the yard,
planted the ladder down close to the house, and let the top fall away
from him with a gentle _whish_ amongst the ivy.
"Well done!" cried the two soldiers admiringly; and the gardener came
away smiling with self-satisfaction at the men's admiration of his
skill.
"Oh," he said to the sergeant, "it's easy enough when you know how."
"That's so, my lad," said the sergeant. "There's nothing like having a
man who understands his tools."
Waller still stood frowning and rattling his knife, the key, a piece of
curb chain, and a few other odds and ends in the bottom of his pocket,
furtively watching the fat constable the while, till he caught sight of
the sergeant looking at him, ready to half close his eye in a knowing
wink.
"That'll about do," said Gusset; and he looked up to the top of the
ladder, half hidden amongst the clustering ivy, then down at the two
men, and, lastly, at the sergeant.
"Now, then," he said, in his unpleasant, husky voice, "it's no use to
waste time. Somebody had better go up."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A HOT SCENT.
"To be sure," said the sergeant sharply. "Well, we are waiting. You
know the way better than we do. Up you go."
The constable turned upon him in astonishment, blowing out his cheeks
and seeming to make his eyes roll, while his naturally rotund figure
began more and more to assume the appearance of a fat cork float.
"Me! Me! Me go up there!"
"To be sure," said the sergeant. "You country chaps are used to this
sort of thing. My lads are not. Scaling ladders is more in our way,
and they are bad enough when you have got to carry your Brown Bess."
"To be sure," said the gardener, chiming in, with a grin of
satisfaction. "That's right enough, sergeant. Up you go, Fatty!"
"You will get yourself into trouble, Joe Hanson," said the constable
pompously. "This here's the second time I have warned you. You,
sergeant--you know I can't get up there at my time of life, and it's
your duty to send your men. I order you, in the King's name, to search
that roof."
"Oh, very well," said the sergeant gruffly. "Here, number one and two,
stand your muskets up against the wall. No, one of you only. You, Jem
Cogan; you are a light one. Up you go. You are not quite so heavy as
the constable here."
"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed the gardener. "That's a good one!" And he
bent down to slap his knees, while, to the constable's great disgust,
the hoarse laugh was echoed in the shape of a titter uttered by the two
maids, who had come to the back kitchen door.
Gusset blew out his cheeks again, and moved slowly towards the foot of
the ladder, where, as the soldier placed his musket against the sill of
one of the lower windows and then began lightly to ascend, Gusset set
his feet very far apart, as if in imitation of the ladder, planted his
fat hands upon his hips, and began to follow the private's movements,
leaning somewhat back the while.
All at once there was a quick movement in the little group round the
foot of the ladder, for, partly moved by the spirit of mischief, as well
as by the intense desire to create a diversion, Waller made a rush.
"Hold hard a minute, soldier!" he shouted. "I know the way best; let me
come first."
As he spoke he literally charged at the constable, who was now leaning
backwards a little out of his perpendicular, and came heavily in contact
with him, forcing the man to make a snatch at one of the rounds to save
himself from falling.
The next moment the top of the ladder began to glide sideways,
describing an arc as it rustled through the ivy. The mounting soldier,
feeling it go, made a jump to alight upon his feet, but, not having time
to properly judge his distance, he came down upon the constable instead,
and there followed a short scuffle, out of which Waller was the first to
gain his feet, to turn savagely upon the heavy, sitting man, and
exclaim, amidst roars of laughter:
"Why did you do that?"
"Yes," shouted the gardener; "I saw him pull it over. Just look here,
Master Waller! Here's my beautiful new ladder snapped in two!"
It was a fact. There lay the pieces; and the soldier, whose face had
flushed with rage, but who was not hurt, now joined in the laughter of
those around, while the constable still sat looking piteously about, as
if for the sympathy that did not come.
The sergeant was the next to speak; as he bent over and held out his
hand.
"Well, you have done it now, master," he said. "I shouldn't have
thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that."
"Oh!" groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. "Help me, please! I
think there's something broke!"
"Not there," said the sergeant cheerily. "You wouldn't break; you are
too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins
again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see
it wasn't my men's fault."
"No, of course not," said Waller. "They couldn't help it. Blundering
up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking."
Meanwhile Gusset was "set upon his pins," again, as the sergeant
expressed it--in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing
hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.
"Well, this is all waste of time, my lads," said the sergeant, pulling
himself together. "I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I
suppose."
"You'll get no more of my ladders to break," said the gardener, wagging
his head, "in the King's name or out of the King's name."
"What!" cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.
"Well, how can you," said the gardener, "when there aren't none?
There's two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs
Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn't catch me
venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like,
unless old Waxy Fat would like another try."
"The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant," came from the kitchen door at
that moment.
"Thank you, ma'am," said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then
he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at
the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.
"Well, master," he said, "my lads aren't much of angels, and they can't
fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as
haven't had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr
Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread
and cheese.--Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!" and,
placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the
kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched
them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his
sentries and bring them up to the attack.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE SEARCH RELINQUISHED.
The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of
Brackendene.
The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for
sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and
the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that
it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously
up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party,
he had a right to partake of the refreshments.
But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump,
pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his
way.
"Well?" she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce--which was
a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset's was one of those
countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little
comic when temper had the sway.
"No, not well, Martha," said the constable plaintively; "but I don't
think I am very much hurt."
"Serve you right if you were," said the cook, "coming here like this
when master's out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make
people believe what a great person you are! They don't know you like I
do. Well, what do you want?"
"The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged
myself here to have mine."
"Dragged? Rolled, you mean!" cried his sister. "You grow more and more
like a tub every day."
"But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear," said the constable, with an
attempt at a smile.
"Not in my kitchen if they do," said Martha, with a snort; "and Master
Waller never meant _you_ to come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you
go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I
am put out I speak my mind, and I'm put out now so there!"
Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while
the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went
across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself
to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the
while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and
smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.
That lunch was rather prolonged, and, as he listened, Waller, with his
hands in his pockets, marched up and down the hall, frowning and
thinking till he recalled the breaking of the ladder and the aspect of
the village constable, when his frown faded away as if by magic, and,
throwing himself into one of the big old oak hall chairs, he rolled
about in it, laughing silently till he cried.
At last a sharp order rang out in the kitchen, and though he could not
see, Waller heard the men spring to their feet and march out into the
yard, where he followed quickly, in time to see them take their piled
muskets, while Joe Hanson, the gardener, who had been playing his part
at the lunch with greater zeal than he bestowed upon his mowing or
digging, busied himself with picking up the broken ladder, grinning
across at Tony Gusset the while.
Directly after there were a few parting words passing between Waller and
the sergeant, the men joining in giving their young host a cheer, which
struck very emptily upon Gusset's ear, and made him mutter vows about
being even some day, as he scuffled across to get close up to the
soldiers and march with them back to the village.
And now that all danger seemed to be over, Waller's spirits rose, and,
in company with the gardener, he walked with the search-party along the
drive, out at the gate, and along the road to the edge of the Squire's
estate, keeping up a running fire the while to harass the rear of the
column, which was formed by Tony Gusset, the actual rearguard being
composed of the sergeant, who fell back with the pair from the Manor to
march along silently and solemnly, though thoroughly enjoying the
impromptu fun.
The gardener commenced it by calling out in an excited tone, as if he
had suddenly recalled something:
"Here, hi! Gusset!"
"Yes," said the man, stopping, to turn round his great full-moon face.
"Why, you didn't take the soldiers to look at the cucumber-frames.
Bound to say there's one of them there spies lying snug under the
leaves."
"Ugh!" grunted the constable angrily; and he turned again and went on.
"I say, don't be in such a hurry; there's the sea-kale pots, too."
"Ah, to be sure!" cried Waller, loud enough for the constable to hear.
"Gusset must be right. Better come back and have another look. He may
be in one of the sties disguised as a pig."
Just then the road was leading them along by the bank of a fine old
hammer pond, a great black-looking pool surrounded by a dense growth of
alders and water-loving shrubs, while sedge, reed, and rush flourished
wonderfully, and formed a mazy home for the abundant moorhens and coots.
As the party moved onward to the village there was a sudden rush and a
splash, and Waller called upon the sergeant to stop.
"Here's a likely place, sergeant," he said.
"Nonsense!" said the man, "I know what that splash was. It was a big
pike."
"It might have been," said the gardener, grinning, "but it's more like
the sort of splash a French spy would make when he saw soldiers' scarlet
jackets. Why don't you make old Waxy dive in and have a hunt all round
under the bushes?"
"No, don't, sergeant," put in Waller. "It's ten feet deep in some
places."
"Pooh! What does that matter?" cried the gardener, who, like the boy,
spoke loud enough for the constable to hear. "He wouldn't mind. He'd
sink to the bottom and walk about safely all over the mud."
"That he wouldn't," cried Waller. "He'd shoot up to the top again like
a cork."
And then the banter ceased, for the sergeant's men passed through the
swing gate, and to Waller's great relief he was able to make his way
back to the hall, very silent now as he went over the day's proceedings,
and thought of the chances of the men coming back to make a fresh
search, while the gardener kept on harping metaphorically upon the
broken ladder, and what "master would say" when he came back.