Читать книгу Craven Fortune - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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It was an exceedingly critical moment, but Wilfrid did not lose his head. He saw clearly the necessity of getting Stephen Morrison out of the way. It was no time either to ask how this surprising meeting had come about. Nor did it occur to Wilfrid to doubt Freda's movements. Perhaps some great catastrophe had happened.

"Where have you been to at this time of night?" Wilfrid demanded. "I thought you were in bed long ago. My dearest girl, are you mad?"

"Then it is with anxiety and fright," Freda whispered. "Wilfrid, I have been into Middlesworth. I had to go; for many reasons it was sheer necessity. I felt quite sure that those men would go on playing till nearly daylight. But Mr. Morrison is calling again."

"Confound it, Bayfield," the raucous voice cried. "Why the deuce don't you come?"

Wilfrid called out that he was coming at once. He had dropped something, he said, and was very anxious to find it. At the present moment there was only one thing to do and that was to get rid of Morrison at once. Freda whispered a few hurried words to this effect in her lover's ear. Would not Wilfrid get rid of the man? He could easily find an excuse to get back, and then he would have to help Freda out of her difficulty.

Wilfrid acknowledged that as he snapped his teeth together. As he slipped from the shelter of the belt of shrubs he saw the figure of the impatient Morrison before him. It was necessary to lie now and to lie boldly. Wilfrid's manner was quite matter of fact as he came up with the fussy millionaire.

"If you are in a hurry I must ask you to go alone," he said. "In drawing my match-box from my pocket I pulled out a paper with some most important notes upon it. They are on very flimsy paper and came from a specialist in Berlin. They are vital to the treatment of a patient and must be found. If you will help me to look for them----"

Morrison declined curtly. He had plenty of worry of his own without troubling about other people he said, almost brutally, as he strode away. Wilfrid was welcome to stay there and search all night if he liked. As Morrison's figure vanished into the darkness, Wilfrid drew a sigh of relief. At the same time he felt ashamed of himself. He reflected how easily and glibly he had lied, he who always prided himself on being the soul of honour.

Freda's face lighted as her lover returned alone. Had Wilfrid been less perplexed and harassed he would have seen that Freda was suffering from more than anxiety. Her face was set and white; there was a rooted horror in her eyes.

"Have you really got rid of Mr. Morrison?" she asked anxiously.

"He has gone to Middlesworth without me," Wilfrid explained. "I am sure he does not know why I stayed behind. My lie was complete in every detail."

"Oh, yes, I know it must be horrible," Freda said. "I know how you hate prevarication, even for my sake. But it was for you that I----"

"That you did this imprudent thing. Freda, it was very foolish of you; I ought to be angry; indeed, I should be very angry if I had any right to express myself that way. But after my own stupendous folly it would be arrogance to scold you!"

"Don't!" Freda said unsteadily. The tears were on her pale cheeks now. "It was for your sake that I did what I have done--solely to save your name. I thought those men would stay until day-light. I have known them still gambling when the servants came down in the morning. I did not want to say anything to you--I only wanted to be able to tell you that to-morrow your promise to Frank Saxby would be fulfilled. Won't you believe that it was for your sake, Wilfrid?"

The stern look died out of Wilfrid's face. He could not resist the appealing tones and the wistful look of the beautiful speaker.

"How are you going to do it?" Wilfrid asked.

"I had rather not tell you, Wilfrid. When we discovered the mysterious loss of that jewel I was almost beside myself with horror and grief. A new idea possessed me--how wild it was I did not realise till this moment. It has practically failed. Oh, Wilfrid, no girl in the world is prepared to go farther for her lover than I am for you!"

Wilfrid's resentment collapsed. Though his own headstrong folly and want of moral courage had brought all this about, he was blaming the girl who was taking such risks to preserve his reputation. He stooped and kissed the trembling lips passionately. He was contrite enough now.

"Forgive me, darling!" he whispered. "My jealousy for your good name--but you cannot stop here. At all hazards I must get you into the house and in such a way that nobody will know that you have been absent."

Wilfrid spoke with the air of a man who has made up his mind what he is going to do. He had put his hand to the plough and had not the slightest intention of looking back. The situation was desperate--so desperate that there was almost an element of farce in it. Freda was outside and between her and safety there was no more than the thickness of a wooden door. When that door was passed the whole situation would be saved. If burglary were necessary, burglary it should be.

"You had better sit here under the old cedar tree," Wilfrid said. "Fortunately it is a warm night, and if the worst comes to the worst you can remain until morning, and then tell the servants that you have been for an early walk. Lucky, too, that you have a plain black dress on. But I'll see what I can do, dearest."

Freda waited there with a beating heart whilst Wilfrid explored the house. It was a long process and called for caution, but it was finished at length. As far as Wilfrid could see there was no chance of gaining admittance by means of the upper windows, as the building had no creepers over it and a ladder could be found nowhere.

"Carefully locked, of course!" Wilfrid said briefly. "The gardener would not go out of his way to provide ladders for intending burglars. Doors fast and the lower windows shuttered. There is a light still in the morning room. Morrison must have forgotten to put it out. I shall have to enter by the conservatory."

The glass doors leading to the garden were locked. The glass was beaded in small panes in imitation of stained-glass windows. If Wilfrid removed one of the panes close to the lock he could get in that way.

The process was a tedious one, but it was accomplished at last with the aid of a pocket knife. The beading was pressed back gently and a piece of glass some four inches square extracted, so that Wilfrid could thrust his hand inside and turn the key. To replace the glass and squeeze the beading back was no trouble. It would not do to leave any trace of the burglary.

Wilfrid was in the conservatory now and his mind grew easier. He strolled back to the spot where Freda was seated and beckoned her to follow him. The girl gave a gasp of relief as the warmth and heat of the place struck her. She was not actually in the house yet, but she was very near it and her natural courage began to rise again.

"I am going to try the far fastening now," Wilfrid whispered. "If I can manage that the thing is done. All you will have to do then will be to let me out and lock the doors behind me and go to bed. I'll find some way of seeing you in the morning."

Freda pressed her lover's arm gratefully. The crisis seemed at an end. But the second catch gave a great deal of trouble; it was an iron catch and the thickness of the knife prevented it from going between the sashes freely. There was nothing for it but to break the window.

"I'm going to adopt a desperate remedy," he muttered. "Is there a carpet on the other side of the window?"

Freda thought for a moment and then said that the vestibule beyond was carpeted. Wilfrid wanted to break the glass, so that the fragments would fall inside. The damage would be ascribed to a careless servant, the more readily, too, if the far door of the conservatory were found to be locked. In that case there would be no suspicion of attempted robbery. Wilfrid explained his plan rapidly to Freda.

"It is a risk," she said, "but there is no other way. Mind you don't cut yourself."

But Wilfrid had taken every precaution against that. He wrapped his handkerchief tightly round his fist and then gave a smart blow on the top left-hand corner of the lower sheet of glass. There was a dull sound, followed by the slight tinkle of dropping glass, and behold! a hole large enough for a hand to be inserted and pull back the catch.

"That's all right," Wilfrid said under his breath. "Now, I have only to place my hand inside like this, and when the door is open get you---- Hide behind that oleander, quick."

The last few words came with a startled whisper, for the scene had suddenly changed. In the vestibule beyond a light flashed out as somebody touched the electric switch. A passionate execration rose to Wilfrid's lips. Some one in the house was on the alert, and there would be trouble after all.

At any rate, he must save Freda, who was tugging at his coat. He would see that she escaped from the consequences of her indiscretion, even if he compromised himself. He would face the thing to the end.

"Hide where I told you," he commanded. "Never mind me. I am going to be invited into the house to explain myself and that will be your opportunity. If the worst comes to the worst I shall only be given into custody as a burglar."

Freda would have hesitated, but for the imperative note in Wilfrid's voice. Another light flashed out and she crouched behind the thick shade of the oleander. As the second light flared up and Wilfrid stood prepared for any evil that might happen, he saw a figure advancing towards the conservatory. All his fears gave way to intense surprise as he observed that the figure was none other than that of the little cloaked and hatted man he had admitted into the house to see Morrison an hour or so ago. The figure came along leisurely as if conscious of what had happened. Wilfrid could not see the whole of his face, but the mouth, which was small, was grim and yet smiling.

"So you had to come back for something, Dr. Bayfield?" the stranger said. "You would have been saved all this trouble had you only tapped on the morning-room window. Hadn't you better come this way and tell me what you want before Morrison returns? You fancy that Morrison is not coming back to-night, but he will be home within the hour. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Wilfrid said with sudden resolution. "In the first place, you can tell me whether I have made a neat job in replacing the pane of beaded glass that I had to remove. If you will come this way it is possible that the means of escape----"

"QUICK AND NOISELESS AS A CAT, FREDA FLITTED INTO THE VESTIBULE."

The little man followed. As he passed Wilfrid the latter made a sign with his hand. Quick and noiseless as a cat Freda flitted into the vestibule, kissing her hand to Wilfrid as she went. Her eyes were set and her face was pale; then she vanished like a dream.

"Excellent for an amateur," the little man croaked. "Quite excellent. There is a white kid glove on the floor by the rustic seat. Is it yours? No! Then it belongs to a lady. It is a long glove of the most expensive kind and supplied by Paquin. If I were you, Dr. Bayfield, I should put that glove in my pocket. If I am not mistaken it will be useful later in explaining the mystery of a loss which has been puzzling you all the evening."