Читать книгу The Coat of Arms - Edgar Wallace - Страница 7

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TOM ARKRIGHT, a labourer at Waggon Farm, claimed that he was first to give the alarm, but Mr. Lorney's car stopped before the lodge gates at least ten minutes earlier than the arrival of the village policeman on the scene.

Arranways lay close to the road, behind a moderately high wall. Its pseudo-Tudor facade was unscreened by trees or shrubs, and even on a moonlight night the flicker of flame would have been seen half a mile away. Smoke was bellowing from its windows when Mr. Lorney raced up the short drive, having forced the gates, and hammered at the door.

Dick Mayford was a light sleeper, heard the sound—more to the point, sniffed the rancid odour of burning wood—and, being unable to locate it, ran down to the door and opened it.

"I think I can find the room," said Lorney as he went up the stairs two at a time. "It's the sixth from the porch."

Lord Arranways was in the corridor by now. A servant in his shirt and trousers made an appearance, and they gathered round the door.

"Who's here? Keller, isn't it?" Arranways was breathless. "Dick, run and wake Marie and tell her to get downstairs. There's nothing to be alarmed about."

He called to the servant: "Set the alarm bell going."

The ting-a-ling of it came almost immediately, for the alarm bell was near to the man's hand.

Lorney wrapped a scarf round his hand and smashed at the panel. It split, and another blow sent it flying. Smoke bellied out. He groped through the hall, felt for the key and turned it.

"Wait here," he said, "and keep the door shut behind me."

He made his way into the room through blinding yellow smoke. Somewhere to his left front there was a flicker of light. He saw the man on the floor, and, stooping, jerked him upright.

Mr. Keller was not wholly unconscious. Something white was lying on the floor by the bed. As Lorney dragged him past, Keller muttered:

"Don't tell them... she's in my room."

The landlord of the "Coat of Arms" was a man of the world; he had no illusions, few ideals. His grim jaw was set a little more squarely when he came out into the corridor.

"Get him away quickly," he said huskily.

Keller had half collapsed, on the floor, was on his knees with Arranways bending over him.

"There's nothing in the room, is there, Keller?" he asked anxiously. "Your dog or anything?... No, I sent it to the kennels, didn't I?"

"Nothing," muttered the man, "nothing at all. Get me away, will you?"

Dick came running back at this moment, Marie was not in her room; she had probably heard the alarm bell go and was in the hall below, or, better still, outside. Over Dick's arm was a warm coat that he had grabbed when he had left the room.

"Get down to the hall." Arranways' voice was authoritative. "Come along, Lorney; there's nobody else on this floor."

He shouted to the disappearing footman: "See that all the servants are out!"

He hurried away, never dreaming that Lorney was not following. The landlord of the "Coat of Arms" stood rigidly by the door, waited till they had turned out of the passage on to the landing, then, opening the door, went swiftly into the room.

Was he in time? He had suffered something, waiting there. All his senses were keyed for the slightest sound. Whether the woman were ruined or not, he would not leave her there.

No sooner were they out of sight than he was in the room and, stooping, picked the frail figure from the floor and carried her into the corridor. She was unconscious; her face in the moonlight was as white as death.

As he turned to make for the stairway, Arranways came into view, a tall, angular figure, his dressing-gown flapping as he ran.

"Come along, Lorney"—impatiently. "There's nothing—"

He stopped like a man shot.

"Whom have you got there?"

His voice was odd and strange. There was no need for him to ask: he had recognized the figure in Lorney's arms as that of his wife. Suddenly his voice became as breathless as that of a man who has run beyond his distance.

"Where did you find her?"

"At the end of the corridor, under the window." said Lorney steadily. A little silence.

"I didn't see her."

"I did," said Lorney harshly. "At least I saw something. She must have come out of her room in a panic and run in the wrong direction."

"Who's that?" Dick had come up and lifted the unconscious girl from Lorney's arms.

"My God—Marie! Where did you find her?"

"Never mind where I found her." Lorney almost snarled the words. "Get her out of here. This place is going up."

They ran along the passage, down the stairs into the open. Arranways snatched the coat which Dick had laid on the hall balustrade and put it round the woman.

All Sketchley was standing in the grounds, watching, awe-stricken, the destruction of the old house. Servants and such labourers as could be recruited were passing in and out of the house, carrying furniture, pictures, and such articles as could be found instantly and brought to safety. "I've got my car here. I think I'd better take her ladyship down to the 'Coat of Arms'. Nobody's staying there except one young lady."

Arranways nodded. He climbed into the back of the tonneau, but it was her brother who held Marie Arranways.

As the car came out of the open lodge gates Dick thought he saw a figure standing on the verge of the road, a stout, spectacled man, whose face was oddly familiar to him. It was the man Marie had described in Vienna.

"Where's Keller?" asked Arranways suddenly. His voice was hard; he did not look round as he spoke.

Lorney, at the wheel, talked over his shoulder.

"One of the servants said they'd taken him down to my place," he said.

Marie was conscious by the time they reached the cosy lounge of the "Coat of Arms", and Dick handed her over to the care of a maid. He heard Lorney bellowing for Mrs. Harris.

"I think I saw her at the fire."

"She would be there!" growled Lorney. "These damn' cockneys! She'd get up in the middle of the night to see a man dig a hole in the ground!"

He had been into Guildford, he said, and had passed Arranways, when something made him look back and he had seen the smoke and the flames at Keller's window. It must have been burning for some time, for when he went into the room the fire had got a good hold.

They went back to the Hall on foot, he and Dick. Lord Arranways joined them ten minutes later, and stood in silence watching the destruction of the house where he and ten generations of Arranways had been born. The village fire-brigade was valueless. Motor engines were on their way from Guildford, and came, to find the supply of water totally inadequate, and to join the helpless throng that watched the flames roaring up through the roof.

Day was breaking when the little party walked slowly back to the "Coat of Arms". In the three hours they had been watching Arranways had hardly spoken a word. Dick thought it was the loss of his home which distressed him, but when he tried to commiserate with his brother-in-law on the disaster Eddie Arranways laughed bitterly.

"There are some things I can't rebuild," he said cryptically, and Dick's heart sank, for in those words he found the echo of all his own suspicions.