Fairly Caught
SOME of the miners, in prospecting round the depot, had ventured to try
the door of Joey Trip’s house, and had found to their surprise that it
was unfastened and yielded to the touch.
Pushing it cautiously open, two of them entered, to be greeted by a
tremulous old voice from the darkness, “Is that you, Miss Hamblyn? And
has Joey come home yet?”
“No, mother, it ain’t Miss Hamblyn; she has been and got herself rather
bashed up, and doctor is looking after her a bit,” said the man who had
entered first, and who spoke in a deep, big voice.
“I’m rather deaf,” faltered the feeble tones out of the darkness, with
such unmistakable terror in them now, that the men were concerned to
know how best they could manage to let the poor old woman understand
that their intentions were friendly.
One of them struck a match, and, seeing by the light of it that a lamp
stood on the uncleared supper-table, proceeded to light it.
When this was done, Mrs. Trip was discovered to be sitting crouched into
the remotest corner of the room, a shrinking, frightened creature whom
anyone might have pitied.
“There ain’t nothing to be afraid of, mother. Won’t you step round to
the depot, and lend the doctor a helping hand with the young lady?”
asked the man who had lighted the lamp, and who, in addition to his deep
voice, had a thick moustache which hid the movement of his lips.
“I—I am a little hard of hearing, gentlemen,” faltered Mrs. Trip, in
greater terror than ever. It was plain that she took them for robbers,
and was in fear of her life.
“The poor old thing is stone deaf, Jim; whatever are we to do with her?”
asked the man, with the big voice, turning to his companion who chanced
to be clean shaven, and who spoke with a pronounced movement of his
lips.
“I should sling her on my back, and carry her off by force. Doctor would
be glad of her, no doubt.”
“No, no, don’t use force, gentlemen, I beg of you. I’ll do anything in
reason that you want; but I haven’t got the key of the big shed, and my
husband isn’t in just now,” wailed Mrs. Trip, in piteous tones, shaking
worse than ever.
“Rum business, this, Jim; the old lady can understand what you say,
though your voice ain’t bigger than a tin whistle, so to speak. But
you’d better step forward and explain the situation a bit,” said the big
man, retreating to the background.
Jim stepped forward, holding out his hand in a friendly fashion, while
he spoke very slowly.
“Look here, missus; you’re Mrs. Trip, I suppose? Well, we’ve come along
from Bratley with an engine and a freight-wagon to-night, because we had
word there had been some idea of a robbery taking place. But it is a
pretty mysterious bit of business so far, and we can’t get light on the
subject nohows.”
“Hurry up, Jim; you’re taking as much time as a preacher who has got the
whole evening before him,” growled the big man.
“I was bound to quiet her down a bit first; you can’t do nothing with
women when their fears is uppermost,” retorted Jim, with a quick turn of
his head. Then, facing Mrs. Trip again, he went on, “Miss Hamblyn has
been a bit hurt. She has had a nasty fall or something. Could you step
across to the office, and help doctor look after her a bit?”
“Miss Hamblyn hurt? Oh, I am sorry. Yes, gentlemen, I’ll come at once,”
said Mrs. Trip, coming out of her corner, trembling still, but somewhat
more easy in her mind concerning these unknown visitors, who looked so
rough and fierce.
“Catch hold of my arm, mother; you’ll get along quicker so,” said Jim,
crooking his elbow with great politeness.
“Why, you are quite kind, and I thought you were both robbers!”
exclaimed the old woman, in tremulous tones.
“I don’t wonder at that, for I expect we do look a bit rough; but you
should see us when we are dressed up in our Sunday clothes, biled shirts
and all that sort of thing,” said Jim, in friendly fashion, as he
escorted the old woman across the open space to the telegraph office.
“I can’t hear what you say, except when you turn your face to me,” she
said querulously.
So he held his head round towards her, and repeated his words in order
that she might gather the sense of what he was saying. When the door of
the office was reached, he just opened it and pushed her in.
“Oh, my dear Miss Hamblyn, what is the matter? Can’t you get up? Did the
robbers hurt you?” cried Mrs. Trip, in great distress, crouching down by
Nell, and trying to take her hand.
But this the doctor was quick to prevent, for it was Nell’s broken right
wrist which Mrs. Trip had been about to touch.
“Can’t you see that the poor girl is hurt, that she can’t talk, and is
in dreadful pain?” said the doctor, sharply.
“I’m a little hard of hearing, sir,” rejoined Mrs. Trip, meekly.
“Miss Hamblyn has hurt her wrist. Can you get me something to bandage it
with—a towel that I can tear into strips, or that sort of thing?”
roared the doctor, at the top of his voice.
Mrs. Trip shook her head with a worried air. “I can hear that you are
making a great noise; but with all that hair over your face, I can’t
hear what you say.”
“Was any one ever in such a plight?” cried the doctor, thoroughly
exasperated. “A patient who can’t talk, and a nurse—save the mark!—who
can’t hear!”
Again there was the flicker of a smile on Nell’s pain-wrung face; but
the doctor did not stay to see it. He had sprung to the door, and was
shouting for the man who had brought Mrs. Trip in.
“Here I am, doctor,” said Jim, who had been propping his back against
the wall of the depot, and thinking of his supper—a meal that appeared
to be very much in the future still.
“Whatever did you mean by bringing that poor old woman in here? I can’t
make her hear anyhow, and I want bandages, splints, and several other
things,” said the doctor, testily, for the situation was beginning to
get on his nerves.
“I can talk to her, and without making much noise about it, either.
Shall I come in, doctor?” asked Jim, with alacrity, for anything was
better than hanging round with nothing to do, save to think of the
supper he could not have.
“Yes, come along, and be quick about it,” said Dr. Russell, striding
back to his patient.
Jim followed, and, repeating the words as the doctor spoke them,
succeeded in conveying to Mrs. Trip a clear idea of what was wanted of
her.
“I understand now. I will go at once and get the things you require,”
she said, turning to the doctor, and speaking with gentle dignity.
He nodded and smiled reassuringly, told Jim to go with her, then himself
turned back to Nell, whose eyes were asking for something.
Failing to make him understand, she began to move her left hand over the
floor, as if she were writing, then pointed towards the place where
pencil and paper might be found.
“You want to write something of importance?” he asked, as he brought
writing materials.
With a movement of her hand, she signified that he must lift her up.
When this was done she began to write with awkward slowness, the doctor
holding the paper for her, and picking up the pencil every time she
dropped it.
“I threw the key of the shed on the railway track. Send some one to find
it. There is a live man in the coffin—a robber!”
When she had written so much, she looked at the doctor questioningly, to
see if he understood.
“Why did you throw away the key? Did someone try to take it from you?”
he said, beginning to get light on the situation, when her eyes answered
him yes.
“Did that someone hit you a blow which dislocated your jaw, and another
that broke your wrist?”
Again her eyes flickered out yes.
“The brute! It would give me great satisfaction to serve him likewise. I
would cheerfully do the necessary repairs afterwards without charging
him extra for it,” growled the doctor.
But Nell seized him by the arm, shaking it urgently and pointing to what
she had written.
“You want this key found at once? Where is the coffin—in the shed?”
To this also she signified yes. Then, stepping to the door, the doctor
issued the order that the railway track was to be searched up and down,
as far as a girl would be likely to throw, for the key of the shed.
There was instant activity now, and every one set to work on the search,
saving the man in charge of the engine, Jim, who acted as interpreter to
Mrs. Trip, and Sam Peters, who had to serve as the doctor’s assistant.
The broken wrist was set first. The doctor half hoped the pain of the
setting would cause Nell to faint, so that he might put the jaw-bone
back into its place before she recovered from her swoon.
But consciousness never left her, though no sound, save a sob, broke
from her when the fractured wrist-bones grated together, and were bound
up in splints made from a broken starch-box. The doctor winced himself,
when handling the dislocated jaw; but it would have been cruel kindness
to delay the doing of what was so necessary to be done, and in three
minutes it was over.
“There, there; I shall not have to hurt you any more,” he said
soothingly, turning his head away from the sight of the suffering in
Nell’s eyes, and grumbling at Sam Peters, who was wiping his tears away
on his coat-sleeve, and sniffing like a schoolboy who has just been
caned.
Nell shut her eyes for a few minutes, as if to blot out the memory of
the torture she had just passed through; but she opened them with a
start two minutes later, when there was a knock at the office door, and
some one in a sibilant whisper announced to the doctor that the key had
been found.
“Yes, it is all right; I will see to things. There is no need for you to
worry about anything. I am going to wrap you in these blankets; and then
you can rest until we are ready to take you back to Bratley,” he said,
with authority in his voice, for there was a touch of wildness in her
eyes, which gave a hint of possible delirium later, resulting from the
strain and the pain she had endured.
Rolling her in blankets, which Mrs. Trip and Jim had brought from the
house, and slipping a comfortable pillow under her head in place of his
own jacket, the doctor left her to rest on the floor, watched over by
Sam Peters.
Mrs. Trip and Jim were then packed off to prepare some sort of supper
for the hungry men, while the doctor and the others went to see about
opening the big shed.
The key and the lock of the small side door were both of peculiar
construction, and it took them a few minutes of fumbling before they
could get the door open.
“It is what they call an unpickable lock. Skeleton keys are no sort of
good for this kind of job,” remarked one of the miners who ought to
know, as back in the past—a past long since expiated by honest
repentance and subsequent upright living—he had served an
apprenticeship at the risky business of burglary.
“The door is made of pretty good stuff too. It would not be easy to
stave it in, I guess,” said another, who had been a carpenter, as he
passed his hand admiringly over the stout timbers of that well-made
door.
“The shed altogether is the soundest bit of building to be found this
side of Lytton,” announced a third; and just then the key turned in the
lock, and the door opened.
“Help! help! Get me out of this, quick! I thought you were never
coming!” exclaimed a smothered voice from somewhere.
“Seeing that you have waited so long, it won’t hurt you to stay as you
are for half an hour longer,” the doctor said calmly, as he flashed the
light of his lantern round the big shed, and made an examination of
things generally.
“Who are you, then, and how did you get in?” asked the man hidden away
in the coffin, with surprise and anxiety in his tone.
“That is just the question that occurred to us about you. Were you in a
trance, that they packed you up in this sort of box to ship you off to
the Flowery Land?” asked the doctor, with a twinkle in his eye.
“You just let me out of this, and I’ll tell you all about it,” whined
the man, in a pleading tone.
“How many revolvers have you got in there with you?” the doctor asked;
and then, with a motion of his hand, he showed his companions the manner
in which the chain had been twisted about the coffin, most effectually
imprisoning the person inside.
The prisoner returned no answer to the doctor’s question, until it had
been twice repeated; then he sulkily answered—
“Two.”
“Well, that is about as many as one man can use at a time,” the doctor
remarked coolly.
“Seems as if I had heard that fellow’s voice somewhere before,” remarked
one of the miners to the man standing beside him.
“So have I,” replied the other; then both were silent, as the doctor
began to speak again.
“Now, first of all, before we set about getting you out of this fix, we
want to know what made you choose such a means of conveyance, why you
came, and what you came for,” said the doctor.
But the imprisoned man made no reply to this; and after a minute or two
of waiting, the doctor went on, in a calm tone—
“If you don’t choose to tell us what we want to know, you can stay where
you are until morning. The police will find it very easy to convey you
to Lytton, trussed up in that fashion, and I dare say they will be able
to make you speak, though we have failed to do it.”
“I’ll speak fast enough, if you’ll only let me out,” pleaded the
prisoner, who appeared to be in a regular panic regarding his position.
“Say on, then, for we are in a hurry to get our supper; you might almost
call it breakfast, as it is past midnight, only we have not been to bed
yet,” the doctor remarked, looking at his watch.
“We were hard up for provisions, and, for reasons of our own, we
couldn’t get away from the neighbourhood on the cars, and we couldn’t
tramp it over the mountains without food,” the prisoner said.
“I wonder you didn’t strike across the frontier,” remarked the doctor.
“We had made the States too hot to hold us,” explained the prisoner, who
spoke like an educated man. “We thought of being able to rig ourselves
out with necessary stores from here, and then tramp to some point on the
railway, where we should not be recognized. But this shed was a hard nut
to crack. Night after night we’ve been round here at the business, and
have always failed, until we hit on the idea of borrowing Li Hang’s
coffin, and getting in here that way. The plan answered all right, but
the hitch came after, for that girl with the soft voice, who is
telegraph operator here, must needs dump something on the lid that I
couldn’t lift off. I suppose the poor little idiot was afraid the
Chinkie’s ghost might wander round in an uncomfortable fashion after
dark.” And the prisoner cackled feebly at his own poor wit.
“Your companions, where are they?” asked the doctor.
“Oh, clear away by this time; you won’t catch them, so you need not
expect it.”
“Well, we’ve got you, and that is better than nothing,” the doctor
remarked cheerfully. Then he went on, with a look at his companions,
“Now I think we will go and get some supper, and leave this gentleman to
meditation a little longer. It may lead him to reflect on how much
easier it is to get into a coffin, than it is to get out again.”
The men all tramped out of the shed at this, the doctor locked the door,
put the key carefully in his breast-pocket, then they all went off to
Mrs. Trip’s bright, clean kitchen to get some food, and discuss what was
best to be done.
“I know who that fellow is!” exclaimed the miner who had spoken of the
prisoner’s voice as being familiar. “It is that Dick Brunsen, who
swindled the syndicate with that faked copper-vein. I guess if some of
the fellows he made dupes of got to understand about his being here, you
would have hard work to protect him, doctor.”
“Then they must not know that he is here, for we don’t want any Judge
Lynch on this side of the border; it is not the States, you know,” the
doctor replied, with a trifle of sternness in his tone.
Another man, standing at the back of the room, remarked, in a mutinous
tone, that if it were really Dick Brunsen in the big shed, hanging was
too good for him.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders, and instantly made up his mind as to
the best thing to be done.
“I must take Miss Hamblyn to Bratley as soon as possible, for she has
had a bad shock, in addition to the knocking about she has received. I
would put the coffin and the prisoner in the car, too, and take the
fellow to Bratley, for his own safety; but I don’t dare excite my
patient, and when I’m on the engine, I can’t be taking care of her. So
the only thing to be done is to leave him where he is until I can send
the police to take charge of him; but, for his own safety, I had better
take the key with me, then, as you say, some of you, the lock is
unpickable, he will be all right, until we can hand him over to the
authorities.”
There were a few growls of dissent at this; but, on the whole, the men
seemed satisfied with the doctor’s decision, and fell in readily with
his plans.
The engine was brought on as far as the depot; then Nell, all wrapped in
blankets, was carried into the freight-car, and made as comfortable as
circumstances would permit. Six of the miners remained at Camp’s Gulch
to take charge of the premises until morning, and the others, getting
into the freight-car with Nell, the return journey to Bratley was begun.
But the engine was running backwards now, and the amateur driver had his
hands full in doing his work properly. However, there was no need for
haste this time, so they crept along at about twelve miles an hour,
whistling themselves into Bratley depot between two and three o’clock in
the morning.