Читать книгу Kate Plus Ten - Edgar Wallace - Страница 4

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THIS is one little glimpse of Katharine Westhanger's childhood. It was a childhood spent almost entirely in the company of old Shaun Masserfield, for the visits to her disreputable father and her no less questionable uncle were few and far between.

They were legally her trustees for the small property which her mother had left, but which the General suspected, and the girl knew, had long since been dissipated by her 'guardians,' and it was necessary from time to time that they should make some show of conferring with her. In the main she was alone, 'completing her education in Ireland,' as her father would glibly explain.

She read much, thought a great deal, and she had the vast experience of her grandfather to draw upon.

A year before his death, when she was nearing fifteen, an event occurred which probably did more to shape the after-course of her remarkable life than any other. There was a jack-of-all-trades employed about the house who was variously gardener, coachman, valet and general factotum to Sir Shaun.

Terence (he seems to have had no other name) was a townsman. He had been born, and lived the earlier years of his life, in the city of Dublin. Whatever might be his faults, he was devoted to the girl, and there was no service which mortal man could render that he hesitated to give.

One afternoon Kate was waited upon by an inspector of police. Her grandfather had gone to bed with an attack of rheumatism, and she received the officer of the law in the poverty-stricken drawing-room with its framed photographs and mahogany furniture.

'Good afternoon, Miss Westhanger,' said the inspector with a cheery smile. 'I am sorry to bother you, but we are having a little trouble in this neighbourhood, and I thought you might help me.'

She knew well enough what the trouble was, before he began to speak.

'In three weeks there have been three burglaries in this neighbourhood, and it is very clear that the work is being done by a local man. Major O'Gorman's, Lord Pretherston's and Mr. Castlereigh's houses have been broken into and property has been taken. All the stations have been watched and the roads have been patrolled, and no strangers have been seen here or hereabouts.'

'And do you think it is grandfather?' she asked innocently.

He laughed.

'No, miss,' he said; 'but it is very possible that it is somebody in this house.'

'Me?' she asked with affected alarm.

'I put all my cards on the table, Miss. I think it is your man Terence. He has had a conviction in Dublin, as I suppose you know.'

'For burglary?'

'For petty larceny,' said the inspector. 'Can you tell me where he was last night?'

She nodded. 'I can tell you almost all his movements between six o'clock and eleven,' she said readily.

'The burglary was committed at ten, if you will excuse the interruption, so that if you can account for Terence between nine and ten that will satisfy me.'

'Won't you sit down, inspector?' She seated herself. 'At nine o'clock, or perhaps it was ten minutes to nine, because the dining-room clock is ten minutes fast, Terence came in with my supper. The General was in bed, and Cassidy and his wife had gone to see his mother, who is ill.'

'So that there were only you and Terence in the house?'

'And the General,' she smiled; 'but the General was in bed. At half-past nine Terence cleared away, and at a quarter to ten I rang the bell for my coffee. Then I remembered that the bell was out of order, and went to the kitchen. When Terence brought the coffee I was writing a letter, and I asked him to wait till I had finished it because the bell not being in good working order I didn't want to go down into the kitchen again as I did for my coffee. The clock had struck ten before I had finished my letter, and I then began another letter to Mullins the grocer, which was finished by ten minutes past ten. Terence left the house—'

'That's all right,' interrupted the inspector, obviously disappointed; 'it cannot be Terence, because the burglar was seen to leave from the balcony of Lord Pretherston's house at five minutes to ten. He was shot at when he was crossing the lawn. I am sorry to have bothered you. By the way, where is he now?' he asked.

'He is in the stable. Shall I call him?'

The inspector hesitated.

'No, it is not necessary. May I ask you not to mention the fact that I called?'

She waited until she saw the police officer mount his horse and, riding through the drive, go galloping along the ugly road that led to the village, and then she rang the bell. The old servitor appeared.

'Tell Terence I want him,' she said.

Terence came in a little apprehensively, a lank young man with a smiling eye and with well-plastered hair. Terence had the reputation of being a local dandy.

'Close the door, Terence,' said the girl quietly. 'What is the matter with your hand?'

'I cut it, m'lady,' said Terence, putting the bandaged hand behind him.

'You were shot,' said the girl calmly; 'you were shot while you were crossing Lord Pretherston's lawn. Where do you keep the loot?'

The man turned a sickly white. 'I'll swear...!'

'Don't be silly, Terence,' said the girl. 'Show me all you have stolen.'

'For the Virgin's sake, Miss, don't betray me!' gasped Terence. 'I must have been mad...!'

'You are being mad now,' said the girl coolly.

'Gee up. Don't make an exhibition of yourself! Show me where all the things are you have stolen. You were out last night from eight to ten-thirty. I saw you sneaking back to the house from my window.'

At the back of the house was a big tool shed where the peat-cutters kept their implements, and in the floor of this a square hole had been dug, which had been cunningly framed in and covered by a trap-door. The trap in its turn was hidden by a large chest which had been drawn across it. Terence alone had the key, and only Terence ever entered the little building.

'It took me a month to dig and fix it,' said Terence with dismal pride. 'Oh, whirra!'

From the interior of the 'safe deposit' Terence extracted three small handbags. Two of them were new, and one the girl recognized as the property of her grandfather.

'Bring them to the house,' she said. She led the way to her room, ushered him in and closed and locked the door. 'Now, we will see what you have.'

It was a remarkable display, for the man's operations had been thorough, and since most of his robberies had been committed in a restricted period of time before the alarm had spread, and householders had paid extra attention to the fastening of their windows and the security of their valuables, the haul had been amazingly big.

There was a pearl collar and a pearl necklace which the girl recognized as Mrs. O'Gorman's. There were two big wads of banknotes, and as far as the girl could judge about £200 in gold contained in a little wash-leather bag.

'How could you get rid of the jewellery?' she asked.

The young man, a dejected figure sitting on the edge of a chair, shook his melancholy head. 'Sure, 'twas a bad day for me entirely when I came here,' he moaned.

'Listen, you wretched creature,' said the girl impatiently, 'how can you get rid of this jewellery?'

'I'd be selling it in Dublin, miss. There's an ould man—'

'That will do,' she said. With skilful fingers she separated the jewellery and packed it securely in a large cardboard box, wrapping each jewel in paper.

'Where do you live in Dublin? Have you an address?' she asked.

The man looked at her suspiciously.

'I stay wid my brother,' he said.

'Write his address down here.'

She gave him a sheet of paper, and after a moment's hesitation he crossed to her little writing-table and laboriously wrote.

'Now fill in this form,' she said. She took from her stationery case a yellow parcels' post label and stood over the man directing him. When he had finished she blotted the form, took £5 from the heap of gold and handed it to him. Then she sat down, her hands folded on her lap, her two steady eyes fixed upon him.

'Terence,' she said, 'there is a train leaves Galway for Dublin at eight o'clock tonight. It will take you three hours to walk to Galway, or you can put the pony in the car and drive over and leave it with Donoghue.'

He stared at her with mouth wide open.

'What will ye be afther doing, miss?' he whispered.

'I shall send these things on by parcels post. Go to your brother's house. You should receive the parcel tomorrow afternoon,' she said calmly. 'My advice to you is to sell the jewels and get out of Ireland as quickly as you can. America is a good place for a man with your ability.'

'And you are not sending for the police?' he asked after a long pause.

She shook her head.

A slow cunning smile dawned on his face.

The arrogant thought which flowed through his shallow brain was revealed when he said with a smirk, 'You may be getting yourself into trouble for my sake, m'lady?'

She looked him up and down, and he wilted under the scorn in her eyes.

'I shall have my reward, Terence,' she said steadily. 'I am taking the money as my share.' She opened the drawer of her table and swept the package of notes and the bag of gold into its interior, then closed the drawer with a snap.

He put his hand to his head in a gesture of bewilderment.

'Sure, miss, ye're joking!' he gasped. 'Why, if ye are found out—if I give ye away...!'

She laughed.

'Go quickly, Terence,' she said quietly. 'If you walk you've got three hours to consider what chance you have of being believed.'

It took longer than three hours for Terence to settle the matter to his satisfaction. He was still wrestling with the problem a week later, from the deck of the big Cunarder when she swung out of Queenstown Harbour.