Kitabı oku: «In Her Own Right», sayfa 9

“With just a lingering curiosity, however,” he added.

“A casual curiosity, rather,” she amended.

“Which, some time, I shall gratify. You’ve trailed me down – we were on Greenberry Point for a purpose, but nothing has come of it, yet – and it’s likely a failure.”

“My dear Mr. Croyden, I don’t wish to know. It was a mistake to refer to it. I should simply have forgot what I heard in Annapolis – I’ll forget now, if you will permit.”

“By no means, Miss Carrington. You can’t forget, if you would – and I would not have you, if you could. Moreover, I inherited it along with Clarendon, and, as you were my guide to the place, it’s no more than right that you should know. I think I shall confide in you – no use to protest, it’s got to come!” he added.

“You are determined? – Very well, then, come over to the couch in the corner, where we can sit close and you can whisper.”

He arose, with alacrity. She put out her hand and led him – and he suffered himself to be led.

“Now!” when they were seated, “you may begin. Once upon a time – ” and laughed, softly. “I’ll take this, if you’ve no immediate use for it,” she said, and released her hand from his.

“For the moment,” he said. “I shall want it back, presently, however.”

“Do you, by any chance, get all you want?” she inquired.

“Alas! no! Else I would have kept what I already had.”

She put her hands behind her, and faced around.

“Begin, sir!” she said. “Begin! and try to be serious.”

“Well, – once upon a time – ” Then he stopped. “I’ll go over to the house and get the letter – it will tell you much better than I can. You will wait here, right here, until I return?”

She looked at him, with a tantalizing smile.

“Won’t it be enough, if I am here when you return?” she asked.

When he came out on the piazza the rain had ceased, the clouds were gone, the temperature had fallen, and the stars were shining brightly in a winter sky.

He strode quickly down the walk to the street and crossed it diagonally to his own gates. As he passed under the light, which hung near the entrance, a man walked from the shadow of the Clarendon grounds and accosted him.

“Mr. Croyden, I believe?” he said.

Croyden halted, abruptly, just out of distance.

“Croyden is my name?” he replied, interrogatingly.

“With your permission, I will accompany you to your house – to which I assume you are bound – for a few moments’ private conversation.”

“Concerning what?” Croyden demanded.

“Concerning a matter of business.”

“My business or yours?”

“Both!” said the man, with a smile.

Croyden eyed him suspiciously. He was about thirty years of age, tall and slender, was well dressed, in dark clothes, a light weight top-coat, and a derby hat. His face was ordinary, however, and Croyden had no recollection of ever having seen it – certainly not in Hampton.

“I’m not in the habit of discussing business with strangers, at night, nor of taking them to my house,” he answered, brusquely. “If you have anything to say to me, say it now, and be brief. I’ve no time to waste.”

“Some one may hear us,” the man objected.

“Let them – I’ve no objection.”

“Pardon me, but I think, in this matter, you would have objection.”

“You’ll say it quickly, and here, or not at all,” snapped Croyden.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s scarcely a subject to be discussed on the street,” he observed, “but, if I must, I must. Did you ever hear of Robert Parmenter? Oh! I see that you have! Well, the business concerns a certain letter – need I be more explicit?”

“If you wish to make your business intelligible.”

The fellow shrugged his shoulders again.

“As you wish,” he said, “though it only consumes time, and I was under the impression that you were in a hurry. However: To repeat – the business concerns a letter, which has to do with a certain treasure buried long ago, on Greenberry Point, by the said Robert Parmenter. Do I make myself plain, now, sir?”

“Your language is entirely intelligible – though I cannot answer for the facts recited.”

The man smiled imperturbably, and went on:

“The letter in question having come into your possession recently, you, with two companions, spent three weeks encamped on Greenberry Point, ostensibly for your health, or the night air, or anything else that would deceive the Naval authorities. During which time, you dug up the entire Point, dragged the waters immediately adjoining – and then departed, very strangely choosing for it a time of storm and change of weather. My language is intelligible, thus far?”

Croyden nodded – rather amused. Evidently, the thieves had managed to communicate with a confederate, and this was a hold-up. They assumed he had been successful.

“Therefore, it is entirely reasonable to suppose that your search was not ineffectual. In plain words, you have recovered the treasure.”

The man paused, waiting for an answer.

Croyden only smiled, and waited, too.

“Very good! – we will proceed,” said the stranger. “The jewels were found on Government land. It makes no difference whether recovered on the Point or on the Bay – the law covering treasure trove, I am informed, doesn’t apply. The Government is entitled to the entire find, it being the owner in fee of the land.”

“You talk like a lawyer!” said Croyden.

The stranger bowed. “I have devoted my spare moments to the study of the law – ”

“And how to avoid it,” Croyden interjected.

The other bowed again.

“And also how to prevent others from avoiding it,” he replied, suggestively. “Let us take up that phase, if it please you.”

“And if it doesn’t please?” asked Croyden, suppressing an inclination to laugh.

“Then let us take it up, any way – unless you wish to forfeit your find to the Government.”

“Proceed!” said Croyden. “We are arriving, now, at the pith of the matter. What do you offer?”

“We want an equal divide. We will take Parmenter’s estimate and multiply it by two, though jewels have appreciated more than that in valuation. Fifty thousand pounds is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which will total, according to the calculation, half a million dollars, – one half of which amount you pay us as our share.”

“Your share! Why don’t you call it properly – blackmail?” Croyden demanded.

“As you wish!” the other replied, airily. “If you prefer blackmail to share, it will not hinder the contract – seeing that it is quite as illegal on your part as on ours. Share merely sounds a little better but either obtains the same end. So, suit yourself. Call it what you will – but pay.”

“Pay – or what?”

“Pay – or lose everything!” was the answer. “If you are not familiar with the law covering the subject under discussion, let me enlighten you.”

“Thunder! how you do roll it out!” laughed Croyden. “Get on! man, get on!”

“I was endeavoring to state the matter succinctly,” the stranger replied, refusing to be hurried or flustered. “The Common Law and the practice of the Treasury Department provide, that all treasure found on Government land or within navigable waters, is Government property. If declared by the finder, immediately, he shall be paid such reward as the Secretary may determine. If he does not declare, and is informed on, the informer gets the reward. You will observe that, under the law, you have forfeited the jewels – I fancy I do not need to draw further deductions.”

“No! – it’s quite unnecessary,” Croyden remarked. “Your fellow thieves went into that phase (good word, I like it!) rather fully, down on Greenberry Point. Unluckily, they fell into the hands of the police, almost immediately, and we have not been able to continue the conversation.”

“I have the honor to continue the conversation – and, in the interim, you have found the treasure. So, Parmenter’s letter won’t be essential – the facts, circumstances, your own and Mr. Macloud’s testimony, will be sufficient to prove the Government’s case. Then, as you are aware, it’s pay or go to prison for larceny.”

“There is one very material hypothesis, which you assume as a fact, but which is, unfortunately, not a fact,” said Croyden. “We did not find the treasure.”

The man laughed, good-humoredly.

“Naturally!” he replied. “We don’t ask you to acknowledge the finding – just pay over the quarter of a million and we will forget everything.”

“My good man, I’m speaking the truth!” Croyden answered. “Maybe it’s difficult for you to recognize, but it’s the truth, none the less. I only wish I had the treasure – I think I’d be quite willing to share it, even with a blackmailer!”

The man laughed, again.

“I trust it will give no offence if I say I don’t believe you.”

“You can believe what you damn please!” Croyden retorted.

And, without more ado, he turned his back and went up the path to Clarendon.

XII
I COULD TELL SOME THINGS

When Croyden had got Parmenter’s letter from the secret drawer in the escritoire, he rang the old-fashioned pull-bell for Moses. It was only a little after nine, and, though he did not require the negro to remain in attendance until he retired, he fancied the kitchen fire still held him.

And he was not mistaken. In a moment Moses appeared – his eyes heavy with the sleep from which he had been aroused.

“Survent, marster!” he said, bowing from the doorway.

“Moses, did you ever shoot a pistol?” Croyden asked.

“Fur de Lawd, seh! Hit’s bin so long sence I dun hit, I t’ink I’se gun-shy, seh.”

“But you have done it?”

“Yass, seh, I has don hit.”

“And you could do it again, if necessary?”

“I speck so, seh – leas’wise, I kin try – dough I’se mons’us unsuttin, seh, mons’us unsuttin!”

“Uncertain of what – your shooting or your hitting?”

“My hittin’, seh.”

“Well, we’re all of us somewhat uncertain in that line. At least you know enough not to point the revolver toward yourself.”

“Hi! – I sut’n’y does! seh, I sut’n’y does!” said the negro, with a broad grin.

“There is a revolver, yonder, on the table,” said Croyden, indicating one of those they used on Greenberry Point. “It’s a self-cocker – you simply pull the trigger and the action does the rest. You understand?”

“Yass, seh, I onderstands,” said Moses.

“Bring it here,” Croyden ordered.

Moses’ fingers closed around the butt, a bit timorously, and he carried it to his master.

“I’ll show you the action,” said Croyden. “Here, is the ejector,” throwing the chamber out, “it holds six shots, you see: but you never put a cartridge under the firing-pin, because, if anything strikes the trigger, it’s likely to be discharged.”

“Yass, seh!”

Croyden loaded it, closed the cylinder, and passed it over to Moses, who took it with a little more assurance. He was harkening back thirty years, and more.

“What do yo warn me to do, seh?” he asked.

“I want you to sit down, here, while I’m away, and if any one tries to get in this house, to-night, you’re to shoot him. I’m going over to Captain Carrington’s – I’ll be back by eleven o’clock. It isn’t likely you will be disturbed; if you are, one shot will frighten him off, even if you don’t hit him, and I’ll hear the shot, and come back at once. You understand?”

“Yass, seh! – I’m to shoot anyone what tries to get in.”

“Not exactly!” laughed Croyden. “You’re to shoot anyone who tries to break in. For Heaven’s sake! don’t shoot me, when I return, or any one else who comes legitimately. Be sure he is an intruder, then bang away.”

“Sut’n’y, seh! I onderstands. I’se dub’us bout hittin’, but I kin bang away right nuf. Does yo’ spose any one will try to git in, seh?”

“No, I don’t!” Croyden smiled – “but you be ready for them, Moses, be ready for them. It’s just as well to provide against contingencies.”

“Yass, seh!” as Croyden went out and the front door closed behind him, “but dem ’tingencies is monty dang’ous t’ings to fools wid. I don’ likes hit, dat’s whar I don’.”

Croyden found Miss Carrington just where he had left her – a quick return to the sofa having been synchronous with his appearance in the hall.

“I had a mind not to wait here,” she said; “you were an inordinately long time, Mr. Croyden.”

“I was!” he replied, sitting down beside her. “I was, and I admit it – but it can be explained.”

“I’m listening!” she smiled.

“Before you listen to me, listen to Robert Parmenter, deceased!” said he, and gave her the letter.

“Oh, this is the letter – do you mean that I am to read it?”

“If you please!” he answered.

She read it through without a single word of comment – an amazing thing in a woman, who, when her curiosity is aroused, can ask more questions to the minute than can be answered in a month. When she had finished, she turned back and read portions of it again, especially the direction as to finding the treasure, and the postscript bequests by the Duvals.

At last, she dropped the letter in her lap and looked up at Croyden.

“A most remarkable document!” she said. “Most extraordinary in its ordinariness, and most ordinary in its extraordinariness. And you searched, carefully, for three weeks and found – nothing?”

“We did,” he replied. “Now, I’ll tell you about it.”

“First, tell me where you obtained this letter?”

“I found it by accident – in a secret compartment of an escritoire at Clarendon,” he answered.

She nodded.

“Now you may tell me about it?” she said, and settled back to listen.

“This is the tale of Parmenter’s treasure – and how we did not find it!” he laughed.

Then he proceeded to narrate, briefly, the details – from the finding of the letter to the present moment, dwelling particularly on the episode of the theft of their wallets, the first and second coming of the thieves to the Point, their capture and subsequent release, together with the occurrence of this evening, when he was approached, by the well-dressed stranger, at Clarendon’s gates.

And, once again, marvelous to relate, Miss Carrington did not interrupt, through the entire course of the narrative. Nor did she break the silence for a time after he had concluded, staring thoughtfully, the while, down into the grate, where a smouldering back log glowed fitfully.

“What do you intend to do, as to the treasure?” she asked, slowly.

“Give it up!” he replied. “What else is there to do?”

“And what about this stranger?”

“He must give it up!” laughed Croyden. “He has no recourse. In the words of the game, popular hereabout, he is playing a bobtail!”

“But he doesn’t know it’s a bobtail. He is convinced you found the treasure,” she objected.

“Let him make whatever trouble he can, it won’t bother me, in the least.”

“He is not acting alone,” she persisted. “He has confederates – they may attack Clarendon, in an effort to capture the treasure.”

“My dear child! this is the twentieth century, not the seventeenth!” he laughed. “We don’t ‘stand-by to repel boarders,’ these days.”

“Pirate’s gold breeds pirate’s ways!” she answered.

He stared at her, in surprise.

“Rather queer! – I’ve heard those same words before, in this connection.”

“Community of minds.”

“Is it a quotation?” he asked.

“Possibly – though I don’t recall it. Suppose you are attacked and tortured till you reveal where you’ve hidden the jewels?” she insisted.

“I cannot suppose them so unreasonable!” he laughed, again. “However, I put Moses on guard – with a big revolver and orders to fire at anyone molesting the house. If we hear a fusillade we’ll know it’s he shooting up the neighborhood.”

“Then the same idea did suggest itself to you!”

“Only to the extent of searching for the jewels – I regarded that as vaguely possible, but there isn’t the slightest danger of any one being tortured.”

“You know best, I suppose,” she said – “but you’ve had your warning – and pirate’s gold breeds pirate’s ways. You’ve given up all hope of finding the treasure – abandoned jewels worth – how many dollars?”

“Possibly half a million,” he filled in.

“Without a further search? Oh! Mr. Croyden!”

“If you can suggest what to do – anything which hasn’t been done, I shall be only too glad to consider it.”

“You say you dug up the entire Point for a hundred yards inland?”

“We did.”

“And dredged the Bay for a hundred yards?”

“Yes.”

She puckered her brows in thought. He regarded her with an amused smile.

“I don’t see what you’re to do, except to do it all over again,” she announced – “Now, don’t laugh! It may sound foolish, but many a thing has been found on a second seeking – and this, surely, is worth a second, or a third, or even many seekings.”

“If there were any assurance of ultimate success, it would pay to spend a lifetime hunting. The two essentials, however, are wanting: the extreme tip of Greenberry Point in 1720, and the beech-trees. We made the best guess at their location. More than that, the zone of exploration embraced every possible extreme of territory – yet, we failed. It will make nothing for success to try again.”

“But it is somewhere!” she reflected.

“Somewhere, in the Bay! – It’s shoal water, for three or four hundred feet around the Point, with a rock bottom. The Point itself has been eaten into by the Bay, down to this rock. Parmenter’s chest disappeared with the land in which it was buried, and no man will find it now, except by accident.”

“It seems such a shame!” she exclaimed. “A fortune gone to waste!”

“Without anyone having the fun of wasting it!” laughed Croyden.

She took up Parmenter’s letter again, and glanced over it. Then she handed it back, and shook her head.

“It’s too much for my poor brain,” she said. “I surrender.”

“Precisely where we landed. We gave it rather more than a fair trial, and, then, we gave it up. I’m done. When I go home, to-night, I shall return the letter to the escritoire where I found it, and forget it. There is no profit in speculating further.”

“You can return it to its hiding place,” she reflected, “but you can’t cease wondering. Why didn’t Marmaduke Duval get the treasure while the landmarks were there? Why did he leave it for his heirs?”

“Probably on account of old Parmenter’s restriction that it be left until the ‘extremity of need.’”

She nodded, in acquiescence.

“Probably,” she said, “the Duvals would regard it as a matter of honor to observe the exact terms of the bequest. Alas! Alas! that they did so!”

“It’s only because they did so, that I got a chance to search!” Croyden laughed.

“You mean that, otherwise, there would be no buried treasure!” she exclaimed. “Of course! – how stupid! And with all that money, the Duvals might have gone away from Hampton – might have experienced other conditions. Colonel Duval might never have met your father – you might have never come to Clarendon. – My goodness! Where does it end?”

“In the realm of pure conjecture,” he answered. “It is idle to theorize on the might-have-beens, or what might-have-happened if the what-did-happen hadn’t happened. Dismiss it, at least, for this evening. You asked what I was doing for three weeks at Annapolis, and I have consumed a great while in answering – let us talk of something else. What have you been doing in those three weeks?”

“Nothing! A little Bridge, a few riding parties, some sails on the Bay, with an occasional homily by Miss Erskine, when she had me cornered, and I couldn’t get away. Then is when I learned what a deep impression you had made!” she laughed.

“We both were learning, it seems,” he replied.

She looked at him, inquiringly.

“I don’t quite understand,” she said.

“You made an impression, also – of course, that’s to be expected, but this impression is much more than the ordinary kind!”

“Merci, Monsieur,” she scoffed.

“No, it isn’t merci, it’s a fact. And he is a mighty good fellow on whom to make an impression.”

“You mean, Mr. – Macloud?”

“Just so! I mean Macloud.”

“You’re very safe in saying it!”

“Wherefore?”

“He is absent. It’s not susceptible of proof.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I think so!”

“I don’t!”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“For he’s coming back – ”

“To Hampton?”

“To Hampton.”

“When?” she said, sceptically.

“Very soon!”

“Delightfully indefinite!” she laughed.

“In fact, within a week.”

She laughed, again!

“To be accurate, I expect him not later than the day-after-to-morrow.”

“I shall believe you, when I see him!” incredulously.

“He is, I think, coming solely on your account.”

“But you’re not quite sure? – oh! modest man!”

“Naturally, he hasn’t confided in me.”

“So you’re confiding in me – how clever!”

“I could tell some things – ”

“Which are fables.”

“ – but I won’t – they might turn your head – ”

“Which way – to the right or left?”

“ – and make you too confident and too cruel. He saw you but twice – ”

“Once!” she corrected.

“Once, on the street; again, when we called in the evening – but he gave you a name, the instant he saw you – ”

“How kind of him!”

“He called you: ‘The Symphony in Blue.’”

“Was I in blue?” she asked.

“You were – and looking particularly fit.”

“Was that the first time you had noticed it?” she questioned blandly.

“Do you think so?” he returned.

“I am asking you, sir.”

“Do I impress you as being blind?”

“No, you most assuredly do not!” she laughed.

He looked at her with daring eyes.

“Yes!” she said, “I know you’re intrepid – but you won’t!”

“Why? – why won’t I?”

“Because, it would be false to your friend. You have given me to him.”

“I have given you to him!” he exclaimed, with denying intonation.

“Yes! – as between you two, you have renounced, in his favor.”

“I protest!”

“At least, I so view it,” with a teasingly fascinating smile.

“I protest!” he repeated.

“I heard you.”

“I protest!” he reiterated.

“Don’t you think that you protest over-much?” she inquired sweetly.

“If we were two children, I’d say: ‘You think you’re smart, don’t you?’”

“And I’d retort: ‘You got left, didn’t you?’”

Then they both laughed.

“Seriously, however – do you really expect Mr. Macloud?” she asked.

“I surely do – probably within two days; and I’m not chaffing when I say that you’re the inducement. So, be good to him – he’s got more than enough for two, I can assure you.”

“Mercenary!” she laughed.

“No – just careful!” he answered.

“And what number am I – the twenty-first, or thereabout?”

“What matters it, if you’re the one, at present?”

She raised her shoulders in the slightest shrug.

“I’d sooner be the present one than all the has-beens,” he insisted.

“Opinions differ,” she remarked.

“If it will advantage any – ”

“I didn’t say so,” she interrupted.

“ – I can tell you – ”

“Many fables, I don’t doubt!” she cut in, again.

“ – that we have been rather intimate, for a few years, and I have never before known him to exhibit particular interest in any woman.”

“‘Why don’t you speak for yourself, John,’” she quoted, merrily.

“Because, to be frank, I haven’t enough for two,” he answered, gayly.

But beneath the gayety, she thought she detected the faintest note of regret. So! there was some one!

And, woman-like, when he had gone, she wondered about her – whether she was dark or fair, tall or small, vivacious or reserved, flirtatious or sedate, rich or poor – and whether they loved each other – or whether it was he, alone, who loved – or whether he had not permitted himself to be carried so far – or whether – then, she dropped asleep.

Croyden went back to Clarendon, keeping a sharp look-out for anyone under the trees around the house. He found Moses in the library, evidently just aroused from slumber by the master’s door key.

“No one’s bin heah, seh, ’cep de boy wid dis ’spatch,” he hastened to say.

Croyden tore open the envelope: – It was a wire from Macloud, that he would be down to-morrow.

“You may go to bed, Moses.”

“Yass, seh! yass, seh! – I’se pow’ful glad yo’s back, seh. Nothin’ I kin git yo befo I goes?”

“Nothing!” said Croyden. “You’re a good soldier, Moses, you didn’t sleep on guard.”

“No, seh! I keps wide awake, Marster Croyden, wide awake all de time, seh. Survent, seh!” and, with a bow, he disappeared.

Croyden finished his cigar, put out the light, and went slowly upstairs – giving not a thought to the Parmenter treasure nor the man he had met outside. His mind was busy with Elaine Cavendish – their last night on the moonlit piazza – the brief farewell – the lingering pressure of her fingers – the light in her eyes – the subdued pleasure, when they met unexpectedly in Annapolis – her little ways to detain him, keep him close to her – her instant defense of him at Mattison’s scurrilous insinuation – the officers’ hop – the rhythmic throb of the melody – the scented, fluttering body held close in his arms – the lowered head – the veiled eyes – the trembling lashes – his senses steeped in the fragrance of her beauty – the temptation well-nigh irresistible – his resolution almost gone – trembling – trembling —

The vision passed – music ceased – the dance was ended. Sentiment vanished – reason reigned once more.

He was a fool! a fool! to think of her, to dream of the past, even. But it is pleasant, sometimes, to be a fool – where a beautiful woman is concerned, and only one’s self to pay the piper.