Overjoyed as I was at the receipt of Violet's letter, and at the
prospect of seeing her again, I had not been many minutes on my way
before I began to feel embarrassed at the prospect of the unavoidable
explanation which lay before me. I felt malevolently disposed towards
the ridiculous old lady who was the cause of all this needless trouble,
but I soon forgot her in the contemplation of the difficulty she had
created. It was a painful and difficult thing even to mention to Violet
such a charge as that against which I had to defend myself, and as the
vehicle bumped along I threw myself back in the seat and gave up my
whole mind to the attempt to approach it delicately, and in the way
which would make it least offensive and painful to her ears.
I have said that the hacks on the cab-stand were a sorry lot, and
though I had chosen the brute which looked most promising in the whole
contingent, I was not long in finding that I had no special reason to be
proud of my choice. Since 1848 London has grown enormously, and in those
days it was possible, even with such a beast as the one my cabman drove,
to be in the country within half an hour of a West End street. I knew
very little of the environs of the great city, and when I woke up to a
recognition of my surroundings I was in a district altogether strange to
me. There were fields on either hand, and here and there the twinkling
of a distant light proclaimed a probable human habitation; but there
were no lamps about the road as there are nowadays, and the scene looked
altogether deserted and desolate. I pulled down the window, and, putting
out my head, hailed the driver, who was apparently asleep upon his box.
A thin, persistent drizzle was falling, the ill-kept road was wet with
recent rain, and the wretched horse was jogging along at a shuffling
trot at a rate of perhaps four miles an hour.
“Wake up there,” I cried, “and get along! I don't want to reach Richmond
after midnight.”
“All right,” cabby responded, and applied the whip with such effect that
for a hundred yards or so he contrived to get a decent pace out of the
weary brute he drove. By this time I had fallen back once more into the
perplexity of my own thoughts, but in a while I woke to the fact that
we had fallen back to our old pace, and I made a new effort to stimulate
the driver. He in turn made an effort to stimulate his steed, and so we
went on, bumping in the shallow ruts of the road, occasionally standing
still, and at our best scarcely exceeding the pace of a smart walk.
“I suppose,” I asked the cabman, “that at least you know where you are
going to?”
“Richmond,” replied the driver. “I suppose it's Richmond, in Surrey,
ain't it? There is a Richmond in Yorkshire, but you don't expect a man
to drive there at this time of night?”
“When do you expect to get to the end of your journey at this rate?” I
asked.
“The fact is, sir,” said the driver, leaning confidentially backward,
“the 'orse is tired. He's a very good 'orse when he's fresh, but 'e's
been in the shafts for sixteen hours at least, and whether he'll get
there at all is more than I should like to swear to. 'Ows'ever,” said
the cabman, “we'll do our best.”
Now I was certain that Violet was awaiting my answer to her letter in
some anxiety, and I myself was on fire to see her, so that this dilatory
method of progress made me feel altogether miserable. We went jogging
on in a sad, mournful fashion, and I made up my mind that at the first
inhabited place we came to I would discharge my driver, and find either
a horse or a new conveyance; and with this resolve I controlled myself
with patience. By-and-by, however, after a series of extraordinary jolts
and bumpings, the vehicle came to a standstill, and once more lowering
the glass and putting my head out into the drizzle, I demanded to know
what was the matter.
“I'm afeard, sir,” said the cabman, “as I've lost my way. It's so
blessed dark here, I've got off the road. All right,” he cried, a second
later, “I see it! You 'old on, sir, I'll be right in a minute.” With
this he stood up to flog the horse, and at that instant the vehicle
overturned, slid rapidly down a slope, and stopped with a shock which
for the moment not only drove all the breath out of my body, but all the
sense out of my head. When I recovered I found my hat crushed over my
eyes, and in struggling to find my feet made the unpleasant discovery
that my right ankle was dislocated. I had sprained a wrist into the
bargain, and under these circumstances I had great difficulty in
extricating myself from the overturned vehicle. The horse was hammering
with his hind-feet at the front of the carriage with a vigor surprising
in a creature who had only lately shown himself so fatigued and feeble;
and when at last I contrived to open one of the doors and call to the
driver, I received no answer. I scrambled out painfully, and found
myself scarcely able to stand. The darkness was intense; both the lamps
had been broken and extinguished in the spill, and the rain was now
falling with considerable violence. I called repeatedly to the driver,
and groping about in the pitchy darkness on my hands and knees, I
received a blow on the head from one of the frightened horse's feet, and
lay for a little while quite sick and stunned. How long this sensation
lasted I have no means of knowing, but when I recovered my senses I was
wet through, and found myself lying among furze-bushes in a damp hollow.
The horse had apparently resigned himself to the position, and lay
quiet. As I struggled to my feet, with a thousand colored lights
flashing before ray eyes, the darkness and silence of the night seemed
filled with booming noises like those which are made by a heavy sea
when the wind has fallen. I crawled about cautiously through the wet and
prickly furze, and at last laid a hand upon the driver's sleeve. He was
sitting with his head between his hands, and I could just make him out
dimly, now that I was close upon him and certain of his presence.
“Are you hurt?” I asked. “You understand what I am saying?”
“Hurt!” he responded. “I'm as near killed as makes no matter. I thought
you was done for, sir. I called out two or three times when I came to,
but you never made a sign.”
“I got a kick on the head,” I explained. “It made me stupid for a time.
Do you know where we are, or have you lost your way altogether?”
“I don't know,” the man responded, with a groan. “I never drove this
road before, but it strikes me we're on Barnes Common.”
“Is there any house within reach?” I asked.
“How should I know?” he answered.
“Can you walk?” I asked. “I am dead lame, and cannot put one foot before
another.”
“I'll try,” he answered, still groaning, and with an effort he scrambled
to his feet. Once there he shook himself, and then began carefully to
explore his person with both hands from head to foot; kneeling on the
ground there I could see him more clearly against the lowering sky, and
when, after a prolonged examination of himself, he drew up his figure
and stretched his arms, I could see that he was fairly recovered from
the shock his fall had given him.
“Can you walk?” I asked again, this time with a little touch of
impatience. He answered that he thought he could, and began to stamp
about the wet grass to assure himself that his limbs were still
serviceable. “Mark this place well,” I told him. “Find the road again,
and go for help. Don't leave me here all night.”
The man promised to be back as soon as possible, and set off at a
stumbling walk. I shouted to him from time to time, he answering, and at
length I learned that he had found the road.
“Keep your heart up, governor!” he called, finally. “I'll be back as
soon as ever I can,” and with that he left me.
For a long time, or for what seemed a long time then, I could hear his
heavy boots crunching on the gravel and loose pebbles of the roadway,
and then, except for the low voices of the rain and wind, and the heavy
breathing of the horse, complete silence reigned. I had been in worse
case many a time, and have been since; and I set myself to make the
best of things. The wind was rising and bringing the cold rain down in a
fierce slant, and the first thing I did was to crawl to the lee side of
the overturned four-wheeler, which lay wheels upward, securely wedged
into a hollow. There was a little hillock, against one side of which
it had rested, which was free from the prickly furze, and, all things
considered, made no bad resting-place. The wrenched ankle pained
me severely, but I was dazed by the blow on the head, and had more
difficulty in fighting against an inclination to sleep or swoon than in
enduring that discomfort. In spite of all my efforts, all knowledge of
surrounding objects faded away at times, and I passed into a momentary
oblivion, though a twinge from the injured ankle always swiftly recalled
me to myself. In a while I remembered that I had my cigar-case in my
pocket, together with a box of those old-fashioned brown paper fusees
which were commonly used by smokers at that time. I had only one hand
available, and it cost me a good deal of trouble to get at that bit of
solace and companionship; but when I had lit a cigar, and had coiled
myself into the most comfortable posture I could find, I felt more
patient than before, and smoked away for half an hour or so in a
tranquillity more or less enforced. I listened keenly all the time, and
anybody who has ever tried the experiment knows how that act retards the
slow passage of the moments at any time of anxiety and pain. If anybody
thinks that an old campaigner is making much of a very slight accident,
I shall ask him to remember the circumstances under which it occurred.
I had been bitterly anxious the whole week, uncertain of the whereabouts
of the lady who loved me, and whom I loved with all my soul, imagining,
in a fashion which seemed contrary to my own nature, a hundred thousand
misfortunes, and suffering more in mind than I can ever have the ability
to express in words. And now, just as I had come to a knowledge of where
to find her, with the note from her dear hand still near my heart, and
with the knowledge in my mind that every fruitless minute spent there
would be full of weariness and doubt to her, I was as effectually
stopped by this trumpery overturn as if it had been the most serious
disaster in the world. My cigar was smoked out, and, after a long pause,
I lit another. Sometimes the mere act of listening as intently as I did
made me imagine noises in my neighborhood, and I called out frequently
on the mere chance of these sounds being real. Little by little the cold
and wet began to take effect upon me. I grew more and more heavy with
it, and at last, with the second cigar still alight between my lips, I
fell fast asleep, and lay there unconscious of the wind and rain, and
knowing nothing of my own bodily inconveniences. How long this lasted
I never had an opportunity of knowing, but I was awakened at last by the
grasp of a hand upon my shoulder, and tried to rise, half-blinded by the
dazzling rays of a lantern, which was swinging close before me. There
were a dozen men upon the ground, attracted by the story the driver
had told, and among them was a local medical man, who had had the
old-fashioned prescience to charge a big flask with brandy. I was
glad enough to get a pull at its contents, and the doctor having gone
carefully over me and pronounced that no bones were broken, I was lifted
with a good deal of trouble into his dog-cart, and at my own request was
driven on to Richmond. It was long after midnight when we got there,
but after a good deal of knocking and ringing we made our way into
the Talbot Hotel, where I secured a comfortable bedroom; and when my
sprained wrist and dislocated ankle had been put into cold compasses by
the doctor, I was got to bed. I passed an uneasy night, afflicted mainly
by the thought of Violet's bewilderment about me, and in the morning I
scrawled a note to her, telling her where I was, and asking her to send
me word that she had received my message. I was more damaged than I had
fancied, and the mere writing of the letter with my injured hand was a
tough task. The messenger I despatched knew Scarfell House, and told me
that it had been bought by General Sir Arthur Rollinson a dozen years
ago, but had lately been very rarely used, though an old house-keeper
and a general servant were always left in charge of the place. The man
came back in an hour, and to my annoyance and surprise told me that
Miss Rossano had left at an early hour that morning. Lady Rollinson had
driven down from London in great apparent haste, and had taken the young
lady back to town with her. I lay raging and helpless half the day, not
knowing what to do in this unexpected posture of affairs; but at length,
being myself unable to move, and unlikely, according to the doctor's
statement, to leave my room for a week to come, I resolved, as a last
resource, on sending a message to Hinge, on taking him completely into
my confidence, and setting him to work to find out in what direction
Lady Rollinson had spirited her ward.
It was late in the afternoon before he came, and the good fellow was
full of sympathy about my accident, and was disposed to stop and nurse
me through the effects of it. But when he had once learned the facts of
the case he took up my business with an almost romantic fervor.
“You lay your life, sir,” said Hinge, “I'll find her. There's no
go-betweens as 'll get any letter for the young lady out o' my hands.
All right, sir; you write the letter, and you trust me to see as it gets
to the proper quarter.”
Hinge's devotion and loyalty did me good, and when I had struggled
through with the letter and had confided it to his care, I felt easier
and more hopeful. Hinge's first movement was up to London, and thence
he returned to me within half a dozen hours with the dispiriting
intelligence that Lady Rollinson and Violet had left town together
an hour before his arrival without leaving any instructions as to the
forwarding of letters. Hinge, in his occasional visits to the house, had
contrived to get on very excellent terms with a pretty parlor-maid, who
had given him voluntarily all the information she had at her command.
The only definite bit of news he brought was that the ladies had driven
to Euston Station; and though that fact opened up, then, a vista of
inquiry far less wide than it would to-day, it was still possible to
go to so many places, and I had so little to guide me as to their
intentions, that the news left me in a perfect fog of despair, However,
Hinge, in obedience to my instructions, went to Euston, and attempted
there to find out for what place tickets had been taken; but he came
back next morning to report his complete non-success, and was evidently
a good deal dashed and dispirited by his own failure.
“Never you mind, sir,” said Hinge, with outside stoutness, “we'll find
'em yet.”
The poor fellow did his best to keep me cheerful, but between bodily
pain and suspense, and the sense of my own helplessness, I am afraid he
found me rather difficult to manage.
A week had gone by, and I was so far recovered that I could limp about
the room. The doctor had found it necessary to warn me more than once
that I was retarding my recovery by my own eagerness, and that unless
I would consent to absolute repose I might not improbably do myself a
life-long injury; but I could feel the injured ankle growing firmer, and
I was resolute to try the search next day myself.
Since the complete failure of his enterprise, Hinge had devoted himself
entirely to nursing me; and he had been so assiduous in his attentions
that I was surprised to find him absent when I called for him. At this
time I was liable to be unduly excited by almost anything, and as his
absence continued hour after hour, I lashed myself into a condition
of wild anxiety. I was convinced that nothing but his interest for my
welfare could have kept him away from me so long, and I was certain in
my own mind that he had found a clew of some sort. It was seven o'clock
in the evening when he came back at last, and my first glance at his
face told me that something of importance had transpired.
“Where have you been all day?” I asked.
“Do you think, sir,” Hinge returned, with a face and voice of
mystery--“do you think, sir, as you'll be able to get about to-morrow?
If you can, I'll show you something.”
“Speak out plainly and at once, there's a good fellow,” I responded.
“Well, sir,” said Hinge, “I've found out something.” He was like a
narrow-necked bottle whenever he had anything which he was eager to
communicate, and I knew by experience that it was worse than useless to
try to hasten the stream he had to give.
“Give me my pipe,” I said, “and get on as fast as you can.”
“I've found out something,” Hinge repeated. “I've been surprised in my
time, sir, but I never was knocked so much of a heap as I have been this
afternoon.” I lit my pipe and waited for him, controlling impatience as
best I might. “Now who in the name of wonder, sir,” said Hinge, “do you
think is down here colloguing together?”
“How should I know?” I asked, groaning with impatience.
“I was a-walking up the 'ill, sir,” said Hinge, “towards the Star and
Garter this morning, just to get a breath of fresh air, when you told
me as I might go out for half an hour. You remember as you'd given me
leave, sir?”
“Yes, yes!” I answered. “Go on with your story.”
“Well, sir,” said Hinge, “you might have knocked me over with a feather,
for coming down the 'ill arm in arm I see the Honorable Mr. Brunow and
that there Sacovitch. They was talking together that interested they
didn't notice me. Now Mr. Brunow, 'e knows me, sir, if Sacovitch
doesn't, and I thought, after all as had happened, it might be worth my
while to see what they was up to and not to be seen myself; so I just
slips off the roadway behind a house as is a-build-ing on the right-'and
side, and right in front of me they stops. I could hear 'em talking,
but I couldn't make out what they was a-saying, till all of a sudden Mr.
Brunow says, ''Ere she is,' 'e says, just like that, sir--' 'Ere she is,'
as if they was a-waiting for somebody. In 'arf a minute up drives the
Baroness Bonnar in a carriage, with a lady a-sitting beside her. The
two gentlemen takes off their 'ats, and they all shakes hands together,
and then Mr. Brunow and Mr. Sacovitch gets into the carriage, and they
all drives off together.” He stopped there with such an air of triumph
and perspicacity that I was angry with him. Certainly the news that
Brunow was about again was interesting, and might perhaps be useful. But
that, being at large, he should be in the companionship of the baroness
and the Austrian police spy was not at all by itself surprising, and
Hinge had the air of one who had discovered a wonder.
“Is that all?” I asked him.
“No, sir,” said Hinge, “that's only the beginning. They drives off
through the park, turning the carriage round directly the gentlemen gets
into it. They drove as slow as slow could be, just at a lazy kind of
walk, sir; and when they was a little bit of a distance off I ventures
to follow 'era. Their four heads was that close together you might
have covered them with one hat, but of course I never dare venture near
enough to find out what they was a-talking about. They drove about for
two or three hours, and I kep' 'em in sight all the while-At one time
the Baroness Bonnar and the other lady, they gets down to feed the deer
from a paper-bag of biscuits, and the gentlemen strolled about smoking
cigars. Then they all four gets together again just as eager and as busy
as ever. I could see 'em a-talking and a-arguing like mad, and I was
just wild myself to know what it was all about, sir, but of course I
couldn't get a-nigh of 'em. Finally,” said Hinge, “after two or three
hours, they drives back to the Star and Garter, and goes in there. I
found out, sir,” he went on, with a growing air of importance which,
considering the triviality of the intelligence he had so far brought me,
was hard to bear with--“I found out, sir, as they'd ordered lunch; but I
didn't likes to leave 'em without knowing what they was up to, and so
I 'ung about, sir. That comes easy, sir,” said Hinge, “to a man as 'as
been used to barrack life. I 'ung about, and in the course of an hour or
more they comes out very jolly, and drives into the park again, and all
the morning's business over again. Well, sir, having gone on so long, I
didn't like to be put off; and I determined, as a man might say, to see
the finish of it. It come, sir, and it come sooner than I expected. They
drives back about four o'clock, just as it was beginning to get towards
dusk, and they leaves the carriage at the Star and Garter, and they
all walks down the 'ill together, the two ladies in front and the two
gentlemen behind. I followed, sir, at a respectful distance, and they
roams on quite gay and easy for a good mile and a 'arf, and at last they
drops down by the river-side on a little cottage. The dusk was falling
fast, sir, and I was able to get nearer to them than I had been. I was
within twenty yards of them when they all went in together. If you can
get out to-morrow, sir, you can see the cottage, and you'll see where I
got to. It's just right over the river, and there's a bit of what they
used to call a veranda when I was in Bombay, sir. It's right over the
river, the veranda is, and I clomb onto it, and through the Venetian
blind I see the 'ole party. I was just a-peeping in when Sacovitch comes
along and throws the window open, just as if he'd wanted me to hear what
they was a-saying. 'And now,' says he, 'it's all ready, ain't it?'”
I suppose I shifted in my chair at this, and turned round with a look of
some eagerness and interest, for Hinge, in his excitement, laid his hand
upon my shoulder and begged me not to hurry him.
“Don't you 'urry me, sir, if you please. I'm a coming to it now, and I
think before I've done you'll say, sir, as I've got it. 'And now,' says
Sacovitch, 'it's all ready, ain't it.' The baroness was standing there
close by the table. There was decanters on the table, and a lot
of soda-water bottles. She 'elps herself and the other lady to a
brandy-and-soda, and says she, just as she let the cork fly, 'Yes,' she
says, 'I think you've got it.' I'd 'ave give a guinea at that minute,”
said Hinge, “to know what they'd got, but I never thought I should till
Mr. Brunow gets up and says, just at that minute, 'Let's see exactly
where we stand,' 'e says. 'Very well,' says Sacovitch; 'it's like
this. Now listen, all of you,' 'e says, 'for these is the final
instructions.'”
I moved again, half rising from my seat, but Hinge waved a protesting
hand against me.
“For God's sake, sir, don't 'urry me! I'm at it now, and you shall have
it all in half a minute, sir. 'It's like this,' says Sacovitch; 'we
know,' he says, 'that Miss Rossano has drawn that forty thousand pounds.
What that forty thousand pounds is for,' he says, 'is thoroughly well
beknown to all of you. There's Colonel Quorn,' he says--Did you ever
'ear of Colonel Quorn, sir?”
“Yes, yes!” I answered. “Go on with your story.”
“'There's Colonel Quorn,' 'e says, 'lying off Civita Vecchia with the
count on board 'is ship with the arms and ammunition.' Now I'm a-coming
to it, sir; don't you stop me. Such a wicked plot you never heard in all
your life. 'The count's on board,' he says, 'and the arms is on board.
The count won't land until he gets both arms and ammunition. Colonel
Quorn won't 'hand over neither arms nor ammunition,' he says, 'until he
gets that forty thousand pounds. The very minute he gets that money he
hands it over to Colonel Quorn, he gets the arms, and he lands. But now,
mind you,' says Sacovitch, 'there's this to be considered: the count
won't trust his foot on Italian soil, arms or no arms,' he says, 'after
what's happened to him, unless he's sure of meeting his friends when
he get's there. Now what's got to be done,' says he, 'is to time the
delivery of the money. That money mustn't be paid until we've got our
people ready. The count won't land until he thinks he's safe, and we
must take jolly good care,' says Sacovitch, ''e don't land until we're
ready,' he says. 'To be a day too soon on the one side, or a day too
late on the other,' he says, 'would wreck us all. And mind you,' he
says, 'the Austrian government puts more importance onto this affair
than anything else as is happening just at present. They'd sooner pay a
million pounds,' he says (I'm giving you his very words, sir)--' they'd
sooner pay a million pounds,' he says, 'than miss the Count Rossano.”
In spite of my lame foot I was pacing about the room by this time,
altogether too eager to control myself longer to physical quietude.
“And then,” said Hinge, “this come out, and this is what I want to tell
you. Says Sacovitch to the other lady: 'You bring your messenger,'
says he, 'at this time to-morrow here, and I'll give him his last
instructions.'”