Читать книгу The 12.30 from Croydon - Freeman Wills Crofts - Страница 6

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It was one of those minor coincidences which happen so frequently in life, that almost the first person Charles met after coming to his decision to approach his uncle was the husband of his co-legatee, Elsie Morley.

In a sense it might almost be said that he met his co-legatee, for Elsie and Peter Morley were a devoted couple, and Charles knew that any money Elsie might get would be at her husband’s disposal.

Though at first Peter had made a success of his farm, Charles was aware that in later years profits had dwindled considerably. That was even before the great British agricultural slump had set in. Now, indeed, it was generally believed that Peter was in a bad way. No outward sign of this had, however, so far become apparent, nor had the matter been discussed between the two men.

Charles did not see a great deal of his cousin’s husband. In fact the two men did not ‘pull’. Peter seemed to Charles narrow and misanthropic and concerned with himself and his own affairs alone. Peter, on the other hand, thought of Charles as wanting in seriousness and in sympathetic interest. There had been nothing in the nature of a breach between them; simply they were not over cordial.

On this occasion as Charles left Bostock’s to go back to the works, he turned into his tobacconist’s for some cigarettes and came face to face with Peter, who was just coming out.

‘Hallo, Peter,’ Charles greeted him. ‘Haven’t seen you for a month of Sundays. What’s your best news?’

Peter was looking old and rather worn. He shook his head gloomily. ‘Not too good, Charles. Not any too good. What about yourself?’

‘Oh, struggling along.’ Charles moved on into the shop and Peter turned back with him, evidently ready for a chat. ‘And what’s the trouble?’ Charles went on.

Peter did not reply till Charles was served, then as they left the shop he remarked in a lugubrious voice, ‘I’ve had to get rid of Thompson.’

‘Thompson? Your chauffeur, ploughman, gardener, handy man, and general factotum? Why, I thought Thompson was your best man.’

‘So he was by a long way. That’s just the reason. Couldn’t afford him any longer.’

Charles turned. ‘Bless my soul, are things as bad as that?’

‘Things,’ Peter said hopelessly, ‘are just about as bad as they can be. I declare on my honour, Charles, I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Peter.’

‘This year it’s worse than ever. There was a good crop. Nearly everything is above the average. But I can’t sell the stuff. Prices wouldn’t pay getting it to the market. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us all.’

‘Pretty rotten, that.’

‘You may thank your stars you’ve nothing to do with land. For years there’s been talk about it, as you know, and the Government were always going to take it in hand.’ He shook his head. ‘They’ll tinker with it till there are no farmers left in the country.’

‘Industry’s as bad,’ Charles returned. ‘Why, only now I’ve heard that Bender & Truesett are halving their dividend.’

Peter looked at him. ‘You don’t say so! Does that hit you?’

‘Yes, it does. Fortunately, not badly. I have a little in it, but not much.’

‘Oh, you’re all right. That business of yours must be a little gold mine. But I’m in such a bad way that’—he looked round and sank his voice—‘that I’ve determined on a desperate remedy. I’m going to tackle the father-in-law.’

Charles strove to conceal his chagrin. This wouldn’t suit his book at all. If Peter applied to Andrew Crowther for help it would probably scotch his own chance in the same direction. He wondered if he could put Peter off.

‘You’ll not get much out of Uncle Andrew,’ he essayed.

‘I don’t see why not. It’ll be for Elsie’s sake, of course. And I don’t want much—only a little of what’s coming to her in any case later on.’

‘Why not let Elsie tackle him?’

Peter hesitated. ‘I haven’t really told Elsie how bad things are,’ he answered. ‘I don’t want to worry her more than I can help.’

Charles shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t touch Uncle Andrew if I were you.’

‘I don’t see why not. He can only refuse.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Peter,’ Charles returned sharply. ‘If you count on that you may make a thundering big mistake. Neither you nor I can afford to upset the old fellow, because your upsetting him is the same as Elsie’s doing it. He’s told us she and I are to be his joint heirs, but that’s not a law of the Medes and Persians. He can change his mind.’

‘He’d never do a thing like that.’

‘Wouldn’t he? Like a shot he’d do it. Look here: you know his ideas about efficiency and all that. Well, suppose you go and tell him that you’ve let your farm down. What will his reaction be?’

Peter did not reply. Obviously this view of the situation had not struck him. Charles was pleased with the effect he was producing. He went on with the good work.

‘Of course you might get on the right side of him, but there’s a risk. He might just as easily say, “This fellow can’t look after his own business and he’s certainly not going to throw my good money after his bad.” I don’t know: if I were in your place I’d only go to the uncle as a last resource.’

‘But I tell you it is a last resource.’

‘Oh, come now, Peter, it can’t be as bad as all that. Couldn’t you get a loan on the security of Elsie’s expectations?’

‘Do you think I’m a fool altogether? I tried that first thing. No go.’

Charles did not mention that he knew it also and for the same reason. ‘Couldn’t you sell the farm and live in a smaller way on the proceeds till the rainy day is passed? The old man can’t go on for ever.’

‘A good scheme,’ Peter admitted; ‘a thorough good scheme—provided you produce the buyer. I tell you, Charles, I’d have as good a chance of selling the North Pole.’

‘Well, you know more about it than I do. Still, if I were in your place I should be very chary of approaching Uncle Andrew.’

Charles thought he had said enough and changed the subject. In speaking as he had he was not swayed by unkind or insincere feelings towards Peter. He really believed that Peter was a bungler, and that if he approached his uncle he would put the latter’s back up and queer the pitch for both of them. He was sure that he himself could handle the old man more tactfully, and if he succeeded not only he but Peter would benefit. If Andrew made an advance to him, there could be no possible reason for his refusing a similar accommodation to Peter.

For a while Charles was tempted to make common cause with Peter, then he saw that this would be a mistake. In the first place Peter wouldn’t agree that he, Charles, could handle the affair more successfully than himself, and in the second, even to Peter it would be unwise to admit that he was in difficulties. Though he believed Peter would never willingly betray a trust, it was very easy to give away information involuntarily, and the best way of ensuring the preservation of a secret was to keep it to oneself.

‘Here we are almost at the works,’ Charles said at length. ‘Come to the office and have a drink and let’s think if there are no other ways out.’

Peter pulled up and looked at his watch as Charles had hoped he would. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t. I’ve got an appointment with Crosby directly. Well, Charles, I’m glad to have met you. When are we going to see you out with us?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Soon as I can I’ll drop out. Remember me to Elsie and the children.’

They waved adieu and Charles strode on towards his works, while Peter turned back to the centre of the town.

How far, Charles wondered, had his cautiously applied douche of cold water put Peter off his idea of applying for help to Andrew Crowther? It was a fortunate thing for both of them that they had met. With any reasonable luck he, Charles, should get in first, and if he could not sway Andrew, he did not believe that anyone else in the world would succeed.

Charles was strongly tempted to go out then and there to The Moat and put his fate to the test. But a little thought showed that this would be sheer lunacy. Besides the fact that Andrew hated to be hurried, such haste would point most undesirably to the urgency of his need. Andrew would be more suspicious and less pliable. No, the matter must be adequately prepared. The preparation, however, could be done at once.

On reaching his office he rang up The Moat, and in a moment he recognized the lugubrious tones of his uncle’s man.

‘Good afternoon, Weatherup. How’s Mr Crowther to-day?’

Andrew, it appeared, was in his usual state of health. He was reading in the study and Weatherup was sure it would be convenient for him to speak. He would put Mr Charles through.

A moment’s delay and then Charles heard his uncle’s thin voice. Mutual greetings passed.

‘I wanted some time to have a chat with you on a small matter of business,’ Charles went on presently, ‘and I really rang up to ask you when would be convenient. There’s no hurry; it’s simply that I want to keep clear whatever time we fix.’

This produced the reaction which Charles expected.

‘I’m not particular,’ came Andrew’s voice. ‘I’m not overwhelmed with appointments, as you know. When would suit you?’

‘I can’t come next week,’ Charles went on, ‘but it happens that I’m lunching in York to-morrow, and I could look in on the way back, if that would suit.’

The following afternoon would suit Andrew. They had tea, as Charles knew, at half-past four, and would expect him some time before that.

So far, so good. With a slight sigh of relief Charles turned to his papers, of which a number had accumulated since he went out for lunch.

That evening a big event in Charles’s life was to take place, and as the afternoon dragged slowly away he grew more and more restless and excited. For three days he had not seen Una, but that evening they were going to meet. Both were invited to the Countess of Croler’s charity ball, an annual affair of the first social magnitude, which was held in Croler Castle, some five miles from Cold Pickerby. How would Una greet him? The last time they had met he had fancied she was just a little cool—cooler than usual, for unhappily she was never really cordial. To-night he would know how he stood.

Indeed, Charles was sorely tempted to put his fate definitely to the test that night. He wondered if anything could be worse than the miseries of doubt which he was enduring. Better to know, even if the knowledge meant final disaster.

Then he saw that he was wrong. A definite refusal would be a thousand times worse. Now he was living on hope. If that hope were withdrawn it would be the end—the end of everything; the end of life itself. Without Una he would not wish to live.

But with Una by his side...

He finished his day’s work, then just as the closing whistle blew he set off for home. Charles usually walked the short mile to and from the works, in the belief that the exercise helped to keep him fit. And a pleasant walk it was! His way led him up hill, in the direction of the moors. For a while it passed up the valley of the Gayle, then, turning at right-angles to the river, it mounted the side of the valley, winding through thick coppices of nuts and birch, which presently gave place to oak and elm.

Charles lived alone on his little estate, looked after by an elderly married couple called Rollins. The house was placed perfectly on the hillside. Before it the trees fell away, leaving a charming vista southwards of Cold Pickerby, with its rock and ruined castle and beyond the rich, rolling plain towards York. North and east it was protected from the cold winds by a veritable forest, behind which began the gorgeous open spaces of the moor. Charles loved his house and its situation, its views and the garden which he had made with such care and toil. If only its loneliness could be abolished by the coming of Una Mellor it would be paradise on earth.

As after dinner he dressed for the ball, he indulged himself by letting his imagination run riot. If Una said yes, what would be the first thing he would do? Why, get out plans for adding a wing to the house. As it was, it was scarcely adequate. Half of it, the half containing the principal rooms, was good, but the hall, staircase, and offices were poor. An addition to that end of the house giving a larger hall and a couple of new rooms would make the place perfect.

Charles shivered as he thought of the alternatives, one of which was in store for him. A marriage with Una. Heaven! Heaven on earth, irrespective of anything else! But there would be more. There would be money: his present difficulties would be gone. Una and he—mentally he gloated over the phrase—Una and he would go abroad while the alterations were being carried out, away from the fogs and the east winds to Egypt or Cyprus or some place where there was sun and warmth and leisure. For if it were done it would be done in the winter. Then they would come back in the spring, when everything was at its absolute best, to the perfect house in its perfect setting: to the country which both he and Una loved...

And otherwise?

Otherwise, hopeless ruin and despair. Death even. Without Una, why should he want to live? There would be nothing to live for, nothing to struggle for. If he went bankrupt, what matter? He would settle the thing quickly. He would have insomnia. He would get a few sleeping draughts from his doctor. He would take the lot at one go. He would sleep—and that would be the end. It would be easy...

Charles did what he very seldom did, particularly before going to see Una. He poured himself out a stiff glass of brandy and drank it neat. It pulled him together and his morbid thoughts vanished. As he went to his garage and started up the Sunbeam he was once again cool, collected, and in good spirits for the coming festivities.

We need not follow Charles’s doings at the Countess of Croler’s charity ball. One charity ball is very like another, and this was no exception to the rule. But Charles’s interview with Una Mellor so intimately concerned the dreadful events which afterwards took place that some reference to it must be made.

He went early so as to be there before her, and placing himself where he could watch the stream of entering guests, waited with an anxiety which even the brandy could not entirely quell. Suppose she should not turn up! Accidents did happen, unlikely events did occur, you couldn’t be absolutely sure of anything till you actually had it in your hand—and not always then.

Charles found himself stammering answers to the greetings of more than one acquaintance, without having a very clear idea of what he was saying. But he did not care. What did these wretched people matter? If only they would go on and leave him alone!

The stream of arrivals was now thinning, and yet there was no sign. Charles found it impossible to stay quiet. He moved jerkily about, dodging acquaintances and shaking off as quickly as he could those whom he couldn’t escape.

And then she came.

Charles’s heart gave a leap as he saw her mounting the stairs. Now at last heaven would open!

But Charles was still upon earth, and upon earth Fate has a distressing habit of taking back with one hand what she bestows with the other. So it was in this case. Una, indeed, appeared, but not with her father, Colonel Mellor, though he usually accompanied her on more formal occasions like the present. Charles glared as he saw beside her the sleekly groomed head, retreating forehead and rabbit mouth of Freddy Allom.

Though at the moment Charles could not see that he had any redeeming feature whatever, he knew perfectly well that in Freddy he had a dangerous rival. Freddy, though an idler, was not really a bad youth. Well mannered and good natured, his instincts were social. Hostesses were glad to see him, for he brightened things up and made dull parties go. And, not least of all, he would be wealthy.

For a moment Charles felt dashed. Then Una saw him and smiled, and Allom became as though he were not.

Una, indeed, was a sight to quicken the blood in any man’s veins. She was tall, but perfectly proportioned. Her hair of exquisite gold lay on her head in natural waves. Her hair was her great glory and made the unbiased observer sigh with the pity that it had been cut in the modern style. Her features were good, but not out of the ordinary, though her small, firm mouth and light blue eyes showed both character and intelligence. Her carriage was superb, and there were few who did not turn to look at her as she reached the head of the stairs and passed into the room.

Charles, seeing no one else in the entire gathering, was at her side directly she had made her bow to Lady Croler.

‘Hallo, Charles,’ she greeted him unemotionally. ‘You know Freddy Allom, don’t you?’

Charles was forced to let his eyes rest momentarily on the worm. The confounded impertinence of the fellow to be smirking there alongside Una as if he had some claim to her notice! If wishes could have killed, Allom would even then have been carried out for burial.

‘Una, I thought you were coming with the Colonel. There’s nothing wrong with him, I hope?’

‘Yes, he’s got a fit of laziness. Calls it a chill. Luckily Freddy turned up, or I should have been in the soup.’

‘How can you, Una, when there’s a telephone? I’ll take you back. Do please let me. Allom’ll be a sport and divide the honours. Won’t you, Allom?’

‘Not unless she says so.’ Allom grinned quizzically at Charles.

Una was not looking particularly pleased, and Charles passed from the subject. ‘We’ll form a cavalcade,’ he declared, and turned to the more serious business of begging dances.

They had the supper dance, and afterwards he persuaded her to sit out in a sheltered nook in the conservatory. She made no objection, and it was during their walk to the corner he had in mind that an incident happened which completely bowled Charles over and caused him to throw all his caution to the winds.

As they turned the corner of a stand which bore large numbers of young plants in pots, Una gave a stumble. It was not a serious stumble, and she was in no danger of falling. Some previous passer-by had knocked a flower-pot off the shelf, and it was over this that she tripped. She recovered herself, or would have recovered herself, in a moment.

Charles, however, saw her give the false step and sprang forward to her assistance. But he didn’t reckon on the consequences. As he touched her an electric current seemed to sweep through him. It overwhelmed him as the flood from a broken dam submerges the adjoining country. He lost his sense of time and place and became oblivious of everything but her immediate presence. In a moment she was clasped in his arms and he was covering her face with passionate kisses.

When he came to himself his heart gave a great throb. She had made no resistance. She was not angry. She was lying in his arms with closed eyes. For a moment he held her steadily, then she opened her eyes and gave a tremulous laugh.

‘Are you often taken like that, Charles?’ she asked. ‘Let me go.’

‘Never,’ Charles declared. ‘I’ll never let you go as long as I live.’

‘Then you’ll have to carry me home.’

‘I’ll do so.’

‘Don’t be silly, Charles. Someone will come. Let me go.’

‘Let them.’

‘Let me go!’ Her voice grew more imperious. ‘I mean it. I won’t be mauled against my will.’

Slowly he obeyed, then drew her on to the seat for which he had originally been making. Then, as if a barrier had been withdrawn, all his love and longing poured out in a very spate of words. He had loved her from the very first moment he had seen her, and every day since then his love had only grown the more. Her love was the only thing which mattered to him, and if she would not marry him he wouldn’t try to go on living. What was his fate to be? He could not exist in his present agony of doubt.

Una’s cool common sense poured a douche of cold water on his passion. Yes, she was fond enough of Charles, though whether she really loved him she did not know. Certainly she didn’t love him up to his own standard of love. As to whether she might eventually marry him, she didn’t know. No, she wasn’t going to pretend she loved anybody else. What she really loved was her freedom.

It was then when they settled down to a more rational discussion of the question, that the subject came up which was to prove of such importance to Charles.

‘It seems a beastly thing to say,’ Una declared, ‘but I may as well tell you at once that under no circumstances would I marry a poor man. This is not entirely mercenary and selfish. I shouldn’t be happy without the things I am accustomed to and my husband wouldn’t be happy either. To marry where there would be shortage and privation would mean misery for both of us. It would be simply foolish and I’m not going to do it.’

‘Dear Una, that question wouldn’t arise in my case. I’m not wealthy, but I’m not poor. You would have what you’re accustomed to if you married me.’

In spite of his entreaties she would not agree to an engagement, though he believed his case was not hopeless.

But that night, or rather, later on that morning, as he lay tossing on his bed, he saw beyond possibility of doubt that all his chances of happiness in this world were bound up with his getting the necessary money to carry on his present way of life.