A Midnight Alarm
Mr. Bob Gartley had not the best of reputations in Heathwell. He had
more than once been convicted on a charge of poaching, and had served
time in Carford jail. Of late his aversion to work had become so marked
that his presence in the bosom of his family seemed a doubtful benefit
to his wife and his olive branches. The numerous young Gartleys learnt
rapidly to scuttle out of reach of the parental fist, and spent a great
portion of their time sitting upon curb-stones or playing under
hedgerows, oblivious of damp or dirt, while poor Mrs. Gartley, who
received the brunt of her spouse's ill-humour, covered up her bruises
and put the best face she could on the matter towards the world. Her
labours had to provide for the household; her better half's uncertain
and occasional earnings being liable to be forestalled at the "Dragon".
"Why they gives him credit passes me!" she confided to Mrs. Stubbs, who,
having gone through similar experiences, was loud in her condolence.
"It be a speculation on Stephen Peters's part," replied the worthy
vendor of antiques. "He knows he can get it in kind, if not in cash,
and he be fond of a pheasant for his Sunday's dinner. But Bob had best
be careful, for the keepers are on the watch more than ever, and if he
is taken again so soon, he'll get an extra hard sentence."
"I'm sure I've warned him till I'm hoarse, but it seems no use. He never
listens to I."
* * * * *
One Sunday morning, the obdurate Bob Gartley might have been found
sitting by the fireside in his own kitchen. He was attired in his
shirt-sleeves, and had not yet had the temerity to attempt either
washing or shaving, but he consoled himself for these deficiencies by
puffing away at his pipe, and taking an occasional glance into a
saucepan whence issued a savoury odour strongly suggestive of hare, or
some other unlawful delicacy. The seven little Gartleys, having found
their father in a very unsabbatical frame of mind, had wisely removed
themselves from his vicinity, and were at present scrambling about in
the road, awaiting with impatience the arrival of the dinner-hour,
coming to the door occasionally to indulge in anticipatory sniffs, but
being promptly scared away by a warning growl from the arm-chair.
"Keep they brats out of my sight!" roared Mr. Gartley fiercely, turning
to his wife, who was making a slight endeavour to tidy up the cottage.
"Why can't you pack 'em off to Church and Sunday School? I were always
sent regular when I were a boy."
"Much good it's done for you!" retorted Mrs. Gartley scornfully. "Not
but what I'd send the children if they'd any decent clothes to their
backs. I'd be 'shamed to let 'em go, though, in the same rags they
wears week in and week out, and their toes through the ends of their
boots!"
"It don't be fair as we poor folks should have to take the leavin's of
everything," remarked Mr. Gartley, waxing sententious. "Why shouldn't my
children be dressed as well as Captain Gordon's?"
"Because you can't buy 'em the clothes, I suppose. What's the use of
askin' such questions?"
"I'd like to see 'em in white dresses and tweed suits," continued Mr.
Gartley, who might have been a model father as far as aspirations were
concerned; "a-settin' off proper and regular to Church of a Sunday."
"Precious likely, when all you've got goes at the 'Dragon'."
"It's a shame as some should be rich and some poor. There were a man
come round last election time, and said as how everything ought to be
divided up equal, share and share alike, and the workin' classes
wouldn't stand bein' oppressed much longer. They'd rise and throw off
the yoke. Those was his very words. Some as is doin' nothing now would
have to set their hands to work."
"If you mean yourself, it might be a good business."
"No, it's the idle rich I be talkin' of, like Mr. Everard or Captain
Gordon, or even Parson; for what does he do, I should like to know,
beyond preach, and that's an easy enough job. What right have Captain
Gordon or Mr. Everard to the hares and pheasants? They be wild things,
and I says let anybody take 'em as can catch 'em. The folks in Scripture
went out huntin', and we're not told as it was called poachin'. They
didn't bring Esau up before the magistrates for gettin' his venison."
Mrs. Gartley shook her head. Such reasoning was utterly beyond her
powers of argument.
"I reckon times was different then," she ventured. "They be cruel bad
for us poor folks just now."
"We'd be as good as anybody else if we had the money," urged her
husband. "You're a fine-lookin' wench still, Jane, if you'd a silk dress
and a big hat with feathers like Mrs. Gordon's."
"What's the use o' talkin'?" replied Mrs. Gartley, amazed at the
unwonted compliment. "I'm never likely to wear a silk dress this side o'
the grave."
"Unlikelier things has come to happen than that! We might be somebodies
if----"
"If what?"
"If something I've got in my mind was to come off."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing particular! Only it would be uncommon nice to set up as
fine as other folks--in a new country, where no one knowed what we had
been."
"I don't understand."
"Wouldn't you like to go out to America or Australia, and start afresh?"
"Why, yes; but we haven't got a penny to go with."
"No more we have, that's true," chuckled Mr. Gartley. "You say uncommon
clever things sometimes, Jane. No, we've not got a penny-piece to pay
our fares--at present."
"What are you drivin' at?"
"Nothing. Don't you begin askin' questions. You'd best keep a still
tongue in your head and shut your eyes, as far as I'm concerned."
"Oh, Bob! You're never going to be at some of your old tricks? I tell
you it's not safe. A stray hare now and again is bad enough, but when it
comes to----"
"Shut up!" commanded Mr. Gartley angrily. "I'll mind my own business,
and you may mind yours. Go and turn those squalling brats off the
door-step, they send me mad with their noise. I'll make 'em go to Church
another time, clothes or no clothes. Parson may put 'em in clean
pinafores, if he's so anxious to have 'em at Sunday school."
Mrs. Gartley fled to disperse her family, and wisely refrained from any
further inquiries about her husband's intentions; arguments, she knew,
were wasted upon him, and it was useless to distress herself with too
close a knowledge of his devious methods of acquiring a living.
"I can guess what he's after," she thought. "And if he's caught, they'll
give he seven years. It'll mean the poorhouse for I and the children.
Well, it's no use talkin', for once Bob's set his mind on a thing, do it
he will."
When his wife was safely out of the way, Mr. Gartley retired upstairs to
the bedroom, where after moving a heavy oak chest, he laid bare a loose
plank in the floor. This he lifted, and from some receptacle below he
drew a dark lantern and one or two tools of peculiar workmanship. He
stored these treasures in his pockets, then, replacing the plank, he
lifted the chest back into its accustomed position.
"She's no idea where I keep 'em," he muttered, "and it's best as she
shouldn't know. I may as well try to-night, folks be always abed early
and sleep sound on Sundays. Parson would say it was their good
conscience. My old granny had a sayin': 'The better the day, the better
the deed', so good luck to my work to-night, and may we soon be off to
America!"
* * * * *
On this identical Sunday it happened that a few of the Aireyholme girls,
taking a walk with their Principal in the afternoon, met Mr. and Mrs.
Ledbury and Githa, who were also out for exercise. Now Githa had brought
Tony, and Gwethyn, who was with the school party, fell upon her pet with
the rapture due to long separation. Mrs. Franklin was not at all fond of
dogs, but on this occasion she was in a singularly gracious and generous
mood. She had had a pleasant little chat with Mr. and Mrs. Ledbury, and
when turning to go, she noticed Gwethyn's unwillingness to part with her
darling Tony.
"It's very kind of Githa to take charge of your dog," she remarked. "If
you like, you may bring him home with you this afternoon, and keep him
until to-morrow."
Gwethyn walked away cuddling her treasure closely. To have her pet to
herself even for twenty-four hours was an indulgence sufficient to make
her forgive Mrs. Franklin for many other strictnesses. Master Tony was
the idol of the school at tea-time; he was a vain little dog, who loved
admiration, and that afternoon he was cosseted to his heart's content.
He held almost a royal reception, everybody declaring him "perfectly
sweet".
"I wish we'd even a yard dog at Aireyholme," said Rose Randall. "It's a
pity Mrs. Franklin detests them so."
"She was quite kind to Tony to-day. How well he looks, the darling! He's
almost too fat now, instead of being too thin. Precious one! Are you
going to sleep with your own missis to-night?"
Evidently Master Tony had no intention of being left alone, for when
nine o'clock came he trotted upstairs with Gwethyn, and promptly
installed himself on her bed. Miss Andrews, coming her duty-round at
half-past nine, noticed the silky head peeping from under the
dressing-jacket that covered him, but she kindly took no notice. For
once he was to be privileged.
"Everyone seems to go to bed early on Sunday night," remarked Katrine,
taking a glance through the window at the silent village at the bottom
of the hill below the school. "Perhaps it's the mental effort of
listening that exhausts their brains. I dare say on week-days many of
them are like the agricultural labourer in _Punch_, who said he thought
of 'maistly nought'. People seem far more tired with two services than
with a day's work in the fields."
The girls had been sound asleep for a long time, when Gwethyn was
suddenly disturbed by an uneasy whimper from Tony. Wideawake in a
moment, she sat up.
"What's the matter, my precious?"
The room was in complete darkness, but she could tell from the dog's
warning growl that he was all on the alert.
"Do you hear anything?"
Tony's low grumble was a sufficient answer in his own language.
"Is it rats?"
"Be quiet, Gwethyn, and let us listen too," said Katrine, who was also
aroused. "I thought I heard a queer noise."
In dead silence the girls waited. For a minute or two all was still,
then came a curious subdued sound like the very gentle working backwards
and forwards of a file.
"What is it?" whispered Gwethyn.
"I don't know."
"It seems to come from downstairs."
"Yes, most certainly."
"Is it a rat gnawing?"
"That's no rat."
"Has a bird got into the chimney?"
"No, it sounds quite different. I believe it's outside."
"Shall I strike a match?"
"Better not. I want to listen at the window."
Katrine crept out of bed, and groped her way across the dark room to the
open casement. It was a cloudy night, with neither moon nor star in the
sky, and the view was one uniform mass of blackness. The silence was
almost oppressive; none of the ordinary country noises were to be heard,
not a cow lowed nor a solitary owl hooted--all the world lay hushed in
quiet sleep. The darkness seemed to hedge them round and cut them off
from the rest of the slumbering humanity in the village.
Tony had followed Katrine, and pushed his cold moist nose into her hand.
As she bent down to pat him, she could feel his whole body quivering
with tense agitation.
"He knows something is wrong, or he wouldn't be upset like this," she
thought.
Again from the darkness outside came that curious subdued scraping
sound. Their bedroom was over the porch. Could a strange dog be
scratching at the door beneath? Or some wild animal--a weasel or a
stoat, perhaps--be seeking an entrance?
She leaned cautiously from the window, trying in vain to distinguish any
object. Her heart was beating fast, and she was trembling with
nervousness. The noise ceased again, there was a moment's pause, and for
one second she saw a gleam of light in the garden below. Instantly a
sudden illumination swept over her mind: it was neither rat, bird, dog,
stoat, nor weasel, but a human being that was disturbing their peace.
"Gwethyn," she breathed in a panic-stricken whisper, "somebody is trying
to break in through the dining-room window!"
At the very suggestion of burglars Gwethyn gave a shriek of terror,
which set Tony barking loudly enough to have disturbed the Forty
Thieves. So furious was his anger against the unknown intruder, that he
would have leaped through the window if she had not held him by the
collar. All his doggish instincts urged him to defend his mistresses,
and he was ready to fly at the throat of whoever had set foot in the
garden below.
The noise disturbed the other occupants of the landing. The girls came
running from their rooms to inquire the cause of the upset. Mrs.
Franklin appeared upon the scene with the promptitude of fire-drill
practice. On grasping the fact that an attempt was being made to break
into the house, she ran to the big school bell, and tolled an alarm
signal calculated to waken the whole village. She went on ringing
vigorously until shouts and running footsteps outside assured her of
help.
Mr. White, from the farm near at hand, and some of his boys were the
first to arrive, but they were followed almost immediately by the
blacksmith, the saddler, and a number of cottagers, till quite a little
crowd had collected in the drive. Mrs. Franklin hastily explained the
situation, and some of the men, taking lanterns, made a thorough
examination of the premises.
This midnight alarm caused a great stir in Heathwell. Such a thing as an
attempted burglary had hitherto been absolutely unknown, and the
inhabitants felt that it was a reflection on the village. The policeman
paid a solemn call at Aireyholme, produced his notebook, and asked a
multitude of questions, particularly of Katrine and Gwethyn; but the
girls could give little or no information. Beyond the fact that they had
heard a noise and seen a light in the garden, there was not a shred of
evidence, or the faintest clue to lead to the identification of the
thief. The inspector examined the frame of the dining-room window,
which certainly bore marks as if an effort had been made to force it
with some sharp tool, and he carefully measured the footprints in the
flower-bed; but as many of these had undoubtedly been made by the
stalwart boots of Mr. White and other assiduous helpers in the ardour of
their search, it would have been impossible for even a Sherlock Holmes
to gain any enlightenment from them. Nobody in the village had seen any
suspicious characters about, and everyone seemed to have been sound
asleep in bed until roused by the ringing of the Aireyholme alarm bell.
In the end the policeman wrote a formal report to the effect that some
person or persons unknown had made an attempt to commit a felony, but
had been interrupted in the act by the barking of the dog.
"All of which is absolutely self-evident, and didn't need a whole hour's
investigation," said Gwethyn. "Still, I suppose poor old Whately had to
write something in his notebook. The chief credit seems to be due to
Tony. I'm sure he scared the wretch away. I don't know what we should
have done without him."
Tony was undoubtedly the hero of the occasion. If he had been petted
before, he was lionized now. Even Mrs. Franklin admitted that a dog in
the house was a great protection, and offered to let Gwethyn keep Tony
at Aireyholme for the rest of the term.
The Principal had been more alarmed at the attempted burglary than she
would confess to her pupils. She tried to reassure the girls, telling
them it was very improbable that any thief would make a second attempt
on the premises; but for many nights everybody in the school slept
uneasily, and woke at the least sound.
The only person in Heathwell who did not exhibit much excitement at the
news of the attempt to break into Aireyholme was Mr. Bob Gartley, who
received his wife's very enlarged version of the story with an
imperturbable countenance.
"There was a gang of them, was there?" he remarked. "All armed with
pistols and bludgeons, and bent on murder? Where be they a-gone to,
then? And why ain't Whately tracked 'em out? Seems to me as if he don't
know his business, and he'd best retire. I think I'll apply for the job!
How would you like me as a police inspector?"
"I've no doubt you'd be up to a trick or two, if you was! It's a
comfort, though, as you're not mixed up in this, for you was over in
Captain Gordon's preserves at Chiselton, though you couldn't bring that
in as an alibi!"
"Yes, at Chiselton, and that be four miles from Heathwell. If I likes to
take a little midnight walk to admire the moon, I don't see what call
anyone has to go interferin' with me. Everyone has their hobbies, and
mine's for enjoyin' the beauties o' nature."
"But there weren't no moon last night," objected his wife.
"What business is that o' yours? A man may be a bit wrong in the
calendar, and go out to look for what ain't there. Why can't you get on
with your washin', instead o' standin' idlin' and talkin'?"
"It were a nearish shave," reflected Mr. Gartley, as his wife beat a
retreat. "I'd only just nipped over the wall afore John White come
runnin' out. I thought I should 'a managed the trick that time. I were a
fool not to find out first as they kept a dog! 'Twouldn't be safe to
venture it again for a goodish bit, at any rate, so good-bye to America
for the present. It's hard luck on a workin' man who's tryin' to do the
best for 'is family!"