I FIND MYSELF A CONSPIRATOR
HARRY McNAB and two of his ’Varsity friends took a car and went off to
Dr. Firth’s immediately after breakfast next morning. They returned some
hours later, much disgruntled.
“We thought you would be black-tracking all day,” the girls greeted
them. “Have you caught the burglars already?”
“There’ll be mighty little catching done, if you ask me,” was Harry’s
reply. “The black trackers can’t come: they’re busy on that murder case
up in the Mallee, and can’t be spared for a mere robbery. Dr. Firth’s
very disgusted. Of course the police are bobbing about everywhere, but I
don’t believe they’ll do any good. There are two Melbourne men down as
well—detectives.”
“Very disappointing people,” put in Dicky Atherton. “Not a bit like
sleuth-hounds in appearance. I expected to see something of the keen,
strong, silent type, like Sherlock Holmes, but they’re more like retired
undertakers.”
“And is there no clue to the burglars?” Mrs. McNab asked. I had seen the
flash of utter relief in her eyes when she heard that the black trackers
were not to come. She was looking better, but was evidently very tired.
“Not an earthly clue! The jewels and the burglars seem to have vanished
into thin air.”
“You can be jolly certain that they vanished into a high-powered car,”
remarked Mr. Atherton. “Burglars, as careful in their choice of
valuables as these people were, don’t do things in a haphazard way: I’ll
bet the whole thing was the work of an experienced gang, and that they
were all snug in Melbourne, with their loot, before daylight yesterday.
Well, it’s a good thing that his loss doesn’t trouble Dr. Firth as far
as his pocket goes. But he’s awfully annoyed at being bested—not that
he admits that he’s beaten yet, by a long way.”
“No,” said Harry. “I fancy that Dr. Firth will keep his teeth into the
matter for quite a while. And it wouldn’t be jam for the thief if he
caught him. As Dicky says, it’s the old chap’s pride that seems most
deeply hurt.”
So we gathered from Dr. Firth himself when he came over, later in the
day.
“The things were going to the Museum, in any case,” he remarked. “So far
as that goes, I am no worse off. But it is intensely annoying that, for
the sake of a handful of jewels, poor old Michael’s treasures are
deprived of all their value as specimens. He was tremendously proud of
them, and I feel as though I had failed in my trust as their custodian.”
He gave a little dry laugh. “I believe I feel it more because I really
didn’t care a hang for the things—a good horse or a good dog appeals to
me far more than all Michael’s hideous rarities.”
“And what about the things that are left?” Mrs. McNab asked.
“I take no more chances. A man from the Museum is coming down to-morrow
to oversee the packing of everything, and in a few days I hope the whole
lot will be gone—I shall send them all down to Melbourne by motor-van,
with the Museum man mounting guard over them.”
“No need for that,” put in Judy. “All you have to do is to put in a lion
or so, and drape a few pythons round the van! Nobody will go near them
then!”
“Wouldn’t they look gorgeous, going through Melbourne like that!” Jack
exclaimed.
“They would create a mild sensation in Collins Street,” Dr. Firth
agreed. “I’ll suggest it to the Museum official. Meanwhile, I have two
detectives about the house, both looking very wise and filling little
black notebooks with remarks on the situation. Do you know, I have the
queerest certainty that those jewels are not far off? The detectives
scoff at the notion, but it remains, all the same.”
“You have nothing to support the idea?” Mrs. McNab asked.
“Nothing whatever—it’s just a feeling. I suppose Michael would say that
his queer old jewels have a certain uncanny power of suggesting their
whereabouts!”
“What’s that mean?” queried Jack.
“Means they’re magic, silly, so’s they can tell you where they are,”
responded Judy.
“Hur!” said Jack. “Be a jolly sight better, then, if they said it
straight out! Wouldn’t the thieves get a shock if the jewels took to
yelling ‘Here I am!’ whenever they tried to hide them!”
“It would be a great advantage to me,” Dr. Firth said, laughing. “You
two might keep your ears well open, in your joyous wanderings—they say
that magic still lingers where there are children. An old fogy like
myself would have no chance of hearing my lost property bleat.”
“Is there a reward?” demanded the practical Jack.
“There is—I’ve offered £500, already, for the conviction of the thief.
If you get the jewels without the robber the reward will be less, so you
might as well make a thorough job of it.”
“I could do with £500,” said Jack solemnly. “I awfully want a yacht all
of my own!”
“You’re a nasty little grab-all,” stated his sister. “People don’t take
rewards from friends, do they, Mother?”
“Certainly not.”
“Oh well, the fun of getting them would be worth it,” said Jack, though
with some regret. “But you know jolly well you’d like that yacht
yourself, Ju. Anyhow, I vote we start hunting now. May we, Mother?”
“I suppose so,” she said—“if you don’t go into very wild places. No,
you are not to go, Miss Earle.” She put a restraining hand on mine as I
made a movement to rise. “They cannot get into much harm, and you know
that you did not sleep well. Be home in good time, children.”
“Right-oh!—we’ll go and get the ponies, Jack!” They raced off together.
Dr. Firth looked keenly at us both.
“I must say that neither of you look as fresh as you might,” he
observed. “I suppose you have been worrying over this wretched robbery.
You did not sit up on guard, did you?”
“Oh no!” Mrs. McNab replied hastily. “Harry suggested doing so, but it
seemed foolish and he gave up the idea. I am really not at all alarmed
about The Towers—we are such a large party, with several active young
men: a thief would meet with a warm reception here.”
“I think so, too. Still, if you should feel in the least nervous I would
send one of my men over here at night.”
This well-meant suggestion caused us both acute anxiety. The very last
thing we desired was a guardian for The Towers at night. Mrs. McNab was
so emphatic in declining the proposal that Dr. Firth looked at her
curiously.
“Well—just as you please. But if you are not worried, I should like to
see you looking rather more like yourself. Is the work going badly?”
Poor Mrs. McNab leaped at the suggestion.
“Very badly,” she said, with a wintry smile. “There are so many
interruptions—so much to think of throughout the day. I never can
expect really free time during the holidays; although Miss Earle does
everything in her power to spare me, and never spares herself.” She
patted my hand. “I do not know how much magic is in your jewels, Dr.
Firth, but my good fairy was certainly at work when she sent me this
kind girl.”
Dr. Firth beamed on us.
“I’m delighted to hear you say so,” he said. “One would not expect
anything but kindness from Denis Earle’s daughter. My luck was even
better than yours, for you have her only for the holidays: I am not
going to lose her again, if I can help it!”
“I should be very sorry to think our friendship would end with the
holidays,” said Mrs. McNab. “Indeed, after all the young people have
gone away I should like to keep you here awhile, my dear, for a thorough
rest—with nothing to do but lie about and read, or drive the car, or
bathe. It would be dull, but I think it would be good for you.”
“You’re awfully kind, Mrs. McNab,” I said. “But there’s school—and
Madame Carr. Think of the waiting twelve-year-olds to whom I teach
deportment!”
“Hang the twelve-year-olds!” said Dr. Firth explosively.
I felt inclined to agree with him. For me, school and Madame Carr were
only a fortnight away, and the prospect was a grim one. To see Colin and
Madge again would be sheer delight, of course; but apart from those
beloved ones I hated the very idea of leaving the country. My time at
The Towers had been by no means all joy. Still, I had managed my
job—that was some satisfaction; and I had made good friends, and had
found Dr. Firth. And there were my dear little Judy and Jack. It was no
small thing to be a Fellow-Member of the Band. I had yet to learn how
big a thing it could be.
“I don’t suppose the twelve-year-olds will be any more pleased to see me
than I shall be to meet them again,” I said, smiling at Dr. Firth’s
outburst. “Still, they are not bad youngsters, on the whole, and I feel
so well now that I’ll be able to tackle them in earnest. I was losing my
grip before the holidays, and they were fully aware of it.”
Dr. Firth said nothing, but he still looked explosive. It was Mrs. McNab
who answered.
“I hope that if they ever tire you out again you will remember that you
have a home at The Towers, my dear. And then I shall try to give you a
time without any worries—only peace.”
Poor soul—she looked as though she needed the peace herself. I was
trying to reply fittingly when Bella appeared with the tea-tray and
provided a welcome interruption. It was terribly embarrassing to have
speeches made at one.
The next few days went by uneventfully. Judy and Jack scoured the
country every day, returning in disgust at their lack of success in
finding the jewels, but always ready to go out again. We saw nothing of
Dr. Firth’s detectives. It was hinted that they had a clue, a possession
which Harry declared no self-respecting detective to be without; but
whatever it was, it seemed to lead them nowhere, and the belief grew in
the neighbourhood that the robbers had made good their escape, and were
not likely to trouble the Wootong district again. The girls ceased to
lock their doors at night; the Melbourne papers, which had given a good
deal of space to the burglary, dropped the subject in favour of
something more interesting. Only Dr. Firth still held to his idea that
his jewels were not far off. But as nobody agreed with him, he said
little, remarking that a man who had no foundation for his opinions was
wiser if he kept them to himself. He was very busy over the packing of
his remaining curios; load after load of stuffed animals left his house,
to the unconcealed joy of his servants, who declared—Julia reported to
me—that the place was becoming one in which a self-respecting girl
could move about at night without her hair rising erect upon her head.
“An’ that’s more than one can say of this place, miss,” added Julia
gloomily. “There’s more than poor dead beasts is in it at The Towers!”
Mrs. McNab and I paid another visit to the Island on the fourth night,
taking a fresh supply of food. We found our refugee in a distinctly bad
temper, loneliness and lack of tobacco being his principal grievances.
He became rather more cheerful when we supplied the latter need, but
muttered angrily when he learned that no letter had yet been received
from his friend in Adelaide. “A man can’t stay on this beastly rock for
ever!” I heard him say. “I’ll be in a pretty fix if Transom slips me up,
after all.”
“You do not think he will, Ronald?” Mrs. McNab’s voice was sharp with
anxiety.
“Oh, I don’t know. He seemed anxious enough to get me in with him, if I
could raise a little money—but he could easily find somebody with more
than I shall have. I’ll believe in him when I hear from him—and the
letter should have come before now. For goodness’ sake come back as soon
as you can, Marie; waiting in suspense in this hole is enough to send a
man out of his mind!” He stood glowering at us as we left the Island. To
my relief, he had not spoken to me at all.
I think that the doubt he put into Mrs. McNab’s mind about the friend in
Adelaide was the last straw that broke down her endurance. She had made
very certain of the prospect of help from this man, Transom: Mr. Hull
had never spoken of him, she told me, as if there were any chance that
his offer would not hold good. I did not believe it now: I felt sure
that Mr. Hull had only tried to worry her by expressing a doubt that he
did not really feel. It was one of his pleasant little ways, that he
liked to work on her feelings by dwelling on dangers, both real and
imaginary: she had told me this herself, and I ventured to remind her of
it now. But she shook her head.
“I do not know. He can be very cruel, but I hardly think he would be so
bitter as that. It may have been that his talk of Transom and America
was only a trick to induce me to raise the money—and I have raised all
that I can. But if Transom fails, whatever can we do? He has been my
only hope. Ronald cannot leave Australia without a passport—he dares
not try to get one himself, even under a false name. And nowhere in
Australia is he safe.”
There was not much that I could say to comfort her. She gripped the rail
of the launch, staring out to sea as we ran smoothly homeward: seeing, I
knew, all that might lie before her: bringing her brother back by
stealth to his old hiding-place in the Tower rooms, to enter again upon
the dreary life of concealment and deception, with the ever-present risk
of discovery, and of disgrace for them all. It was a bitter prospect.
She looked ten years older when she said good night to me after we got
back to the house. As I listened to her dragging footsteps, going
wearily up the stairs, once more I longed very heartily for a strong man
to deal with Mr. Ronald Hull.
It was not a surprise to me when Julia brought me word next morning that
Mrs. McNab was ill.
“I dunno is it a fever she have on her,” said the handmaiden. “She do be
all trembly-like, an’ as white as a hound’s tooth. Sorra a bit has she
seen of her bed lasht night; I’d say she was fearin’ that if she tried
to climb that small little ladder to her room it’s fallin’ back she’d
have been. A rug on the sofy is all the comfort she’s afther having.”
“Well, she can’t stay there,” I said. “Miss Carrick left yesterday,
Julia: we can bring Mrs. McNab down to her room.”
“’Twould be as good for her,” agreed Julia. “’Tis all ready, miss; as
warrm as it is, I’ll clap a hot bottle between the sheets, the way she
wouldn’t feel the chill. Let you go up to her now, for the poor soul’s
unaisy till she sees you. Herself sets terrible store by you these
days.”
There was no doubt that Mrs. McNab was ill—her appearance bore out all
Julia’s description. She tried to make as little of it as possible,
declaring that she was used to such attacks, and that a day in bed was
all she needed; she had taken the necessary medicine, and utterly
refused to see a doctor. But she did not resist being taken down to the
vacant room near mine, and leaned heavily upon me as I helped her down
the stairs. I was thankful when I saw her safely in bed.
“Don’t trouble about me,” she said weakly. “My head aches badly: I am
better alone. It will pass off after a time. But you must bring the
letters to me as soon as the post-bag comes from Wootong—promise me,
Miss Earle.”
I promised, seeing that nothing else would keep her quiet. But when the
mail arrived, the bundle of letters, which she turned over with shaking
fingers, did not contain the one for which she longed.
“There is nothing from Transom,” she declared tragically. “I am afraid
Ronald’s fear is only too well-founded.” She turned her face to the wall
with a smothered groan.
It was the longest day that I had spent in The Towers. There was
scarcely anything that I could do for my patient—she had no wishes, and
would take hardly any nourishment. Beryl paid her a casual visit, and
then left her to my care—Mother was like this occasionally, she said,
and wanted only to be let alone until she was better. Harry was more
concerned, but accepted philosophically the view that he could do
nothing in the sick-room and would be of more practical use if he kept
the house quiet by taking every one out: and presently all the party
went off for an excursion, and with the throb of the departing motors
The Towers settled down to silence. Judy and Jack had gone
treasure-hunting again, taking their lunch with them. There was nothing
for me to do but sit in my room, going often to steal a quiet look at my
patient, who generally lay with closed eyes, her face grey against the
white linen of the pillow.
She roused a little towards evening, and permitted me to take her
temperature, which I found far too high for my peace of mind, though the
thermometer’s reading did not trouble Mrs. McNab.
“Oh yes—it is often like that,” she said. “Give me some more of the
medicine: it will be better in the morning.” She smiled feebly at my
anxious face. “There is really no need for alarm, so far as I am
concerned. The worst feature is that these attacks leave me so terribly
weak: I am a wreck for days after one. And I have no time to be a wreck
just now.”
This was so true than any comment on my part was needless; I could only
beg her not to worry, which I felt to be a singularly stupid remark. She
took a little nourishment, and soon afterwards fell into a heavy sleep,
from which she did not stir until after midnight. Then she woke and
smiled at me, and asked the time.
“And you still up!” she said reproachfully. “You must go to bed at once,
Miss Earle. I am better, and there is no need whatever for you to sit up
any longer.”
She was evidently better, and the temperature, though not yet normal,
had gone down. I made her take a little chicken-broth and shook up her
pillows, putting on cool, fresh covers.
“That is so nice!” she said, as her hot face touched their coolness.
“Now I am going to sleep again, and you must do the same. I can ring if
I want anything—but indeed I shall want nothing. Run off to bed at
once, or I shall have to get up to make you go!”
I gave in, seeing that she was really worried about my being up, though
I was not at all sleepy. Nevertheless, once I was in bed I slept like a
log, and did not waken until I found Julia by my side with tea in the
morning. She beamed cheerfully at me.
“Let you take your tay in peace, now,” she said. “The misthress is
betther: she’s afther drinkin’ a cup, an’ she towld me to tell you to
take your time, for she’s needin’ nothin’.”
“Is she really better, Julia?” I asked anxiously.
“She is. There’s great virtue in that quare little glass stick she’s
afther suckin’; she med me give it to her, an’ she says it’s made her
norrmal. I dunno what is norrmal, but she says she’s cured. The fever’s
gone out of her entirely. But she have a strong wakeness on her yet;
sure I had to howld the cup when she drank, for there’s no more power in
her hand than a baby’s. But that’s nothin’ at all: we’ll have her as
well as ever she was in a few days, if only she’ll leave the owld
writin’ alone.”
Mrs. McNab greeted me with a smile when I hurried in.
“Ah, I told Julia to make you rest awhile,” she said. Her voice was
still faint, but her eyes were clear, and the pain had gone out of them.
“I am really better: the attack has passed off, and I have only to get
rid of this weakness. But it takes time.”
She was a very meek patient that morning. All her powers were
concentrated on getting back her strength: she took nourishment whenever
I brought it to her, and tried to keep herself as placid as possible by
sheer strength of will. But strength of will, even as great as Mrs.
McNab’s, does not work miracles: she was still weak enough to tremble
violently when I brought her her letters at twelve o’clock, and when she
came to one in a dingy blue envelope her hand shook so that she had to
let me open it for her. With a great effort she commanded herself to
read it.
“It is from Transom!” she gasped. “Everything is arranged, and he wants
Ronald to join him in Adelaide immediately—not to delay an hour longer
than he can help!”
The letter fluttered to the ground and I sprang to her side. She had
fainted.