Читать книгу The Search Party - George A. Birmingham - Страница 8

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“Is there any news of the doctor?” asked Lord Manton.

He was standing on the steps outside the door of Clonmore Castle. He had just given Patsy Devlin a sovereign for the Horse Races and Athletic Sports, and was endeavouring to cut short the thanks with which the subscription was received.

“There is not, your lordship, devil the word; and why would there? It could be that he’s on the sea by this time, and, anyway, why would he be wanting to tell us where he is? Isn’t it enough of their persecuting he had without going out of his way to ask for more?”

Lord Manton, like everybody else, regarded Dr. O’Grady’s flight to America as the natural result of his financial embarrassment. He was sorry; but he recognized that the doctor had taken the wisest course.

“Might I be speaking a word to your lordship about the doctor?”

“Certainly, Patsy.”

“It’s what Jimmy O’Loughlin was saying to me that there’d be no need, if your lordship was agreeable to the same, to be telling the young lady the way the doctor is gone off and left her without a word. She has trouble enough, the creature, without that.”

“What young lady?”

“Be damn!” said Patsy hurriedly, “if there isn’t herself coming up the avenue. It wouldn’t do for her to see me talking to your lordship. I’d better be going before she’s on top of us.”

Patsy Devlin slipped round the corner of the Castle, and dodging through a plantation of laurels, made his way to the stable-yard. Lord Manton was left to watch the approach of Miss Blow, without any very clear idea of what she was likely to want of him; or how Jimmy O’Loughlin and Patsy Devlin expected to keep the doctor’s flight a secret from her. He observed with pleasure that she was more than commonly good-looking, that she carried herself well, and wore clothes which set off a fine figure. He had heard from Dr. O’Grady of the daughter of the Leeds tobacconist, and had formed a mental picture of her which in no way corresponded to the young lady who approached him. He reflected that she was probably in deep distress, and he looked forward with some pleasure to an interview in the course of which she was almost certain to cry. He had no objection to playing the part of comforter to a charming girl. His face expressed fatherly benignity when Miss Blow reached him.

“Am I addressing Lord Manton?” she asked.

“Certainly. Is there anything I can do for you?”

He almost added the words “my dear,” but there was a look in Miss Blow’s fine eyes which checked him. He decided that paternal affection would come in more appropriately after she began to cry.

“I am Miss Blow,” she said.

“Come in,” said Lord Manton, “come in. You must be tired after your walk. Let me lead the way into the library. I have often heard of you from my friend Dr. O’Grady, and if there is anything I can do to help you I shall be most happy to do it.”

He set Miss Blow in a deep chair near the window, pulled over another chair for himself, and sat down beside her.

“I am entirely at your service,” he said. “It will be a pleasure to me to give any help in my power to a charming young lady. I——”

Miss Blow’s eyes warned him again. There was a hard glitter in them very little suggestive of tears. He stopped abruptly.

“I understand that you are a magistrate,” she said.

Lord Manton bowed. Then he sat up straight in his chair and tried to express in his attitude a proper judicial solemnity.

“I want,” said Miss Blow, “to have Dr. O’Grady found at once.”

“A very natural and a very proper wish,” said Lord Manton. “I am in entire sympathy with you. I should like very much to find Dr. O’Grady. But——”

“Dead or alive,” said Miss Blow firmly.

“My dear Miss Blow!” The “my dear” came quite naturally to his lips this time. The words expressed sheer astonishment. There was no suggestion of affection, paternal or other, in the way he uttered them.

“Dead or alive,” said Miss Blow again.

“Don’t make such horrible suggestions, Miss Blow. I assure you there’s not the slightest reason for supposing that Dr. O’Grady is anything but alive and well.”

“Then where is he?” Miss Blow spoke sharply, incisively. Lord Manton began to think that she must be some new kind of girl, quite outside of his experience, one who felt more indignation than sorrow at the loss of her lover.

“I understand,” he said, “that he is absent from home, temporarily absent. I have no doubt——”

Miss Blow rose from her chair and took up her umbrella.

“You’re like all the rest,” she said. “You are as bad as the hotel-keeper and his friend. You are simply trying to put me off with lies. Good morning.”

“Wait a moment. Please do not hurry away. I am not like all the rest, really. I assure you I’m,—compared to Patsy Devlin, for instance,—I’m a miserably inefficient liar. Please sit down again.”

Miss Blow allowed herself to be persuaded.

“Tell me the truth,” she said; “and then find his body.”

“The truth,” said Lord Manton, “is painful—very painful. But it’s not so bad as that. Dr. O’Grady has been for some time past in a position of considerable pecuniary embarrassment.”

“He was up to his neck in debt,” said Miss Blow bluntly. “I know that. That’s what brought me here. And now I find he’s gone.”

There was just a hint of a break in her voice as she spoke the last words. Lord Manton thought that tears were at last imminent. He felt more at his ease, and ventured to take her hand in his and to stroke it gently. She snatched it from him.

“You’re worse than the others,” she said. “How dare you?”

For a moment Lord Manton thought that she was going to box his ears. He drew away from her hurriedly and attempted an apology.

“I am sincerely sorry,” he said. “For the moment I forgot that you were not my daughter. She always came to me with her troubles ever since she was quite a child. I got into the way of taking her hand——”

“Never mind about my hand. Tell me the truth about Dr. O’Grady.”

Lord Manton saw that she was mollified. To be mistaken for the daughter of an earl is a soothing thing under any circumstances. He thought for an instant of trying to repossess himself of her hand; but Miss Blow’s eyes, though no longer passionate, were steely. He felt himself aggrieved, and spoke with brutal directness.

“To put the matter plainly,” he said, “Dr. O’Grady has run away from his creditors.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Miss Blow.

“I have no doubt that he intended to let you know where he was going. I expect he wants you to go after him and join him there—make a fresh start, you know, in the New World, and build up a happy home, where the miserable past may be forgotten. That’s what he means. I’m convinced of it. Only he had to leave this rather hurriedly in the middle of the night. But don’t be despondent, Miss Blow; you’ll get a letter from him soon.”

“That’s all nonsense,” said Miss Blow. “He’s done nothing of the sort.”

“But, my dear young lady, how can you possibly speak so confidently? He’s not the first man who has run away under such circumstances. Plenty of people do it, I assure you. It’s not even considered disgraceful.”

“I know he didn’t.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because I wrote to him a week ago, when I first heard he was in trouble, and told him I was coming over here to see him. I said that father would help him out of his difficulties, whatever they were. Do you think that, after that, he’d run away and not so much as tell me he was going?”

Lord Manton did not know what to think. Dr. O’Grady had disappeared. There was no getting out of that. It was a patent fact. On the other hand, if Mr. Blow had really offered to pay the doctor’s debts, there seemed to be no reason why he should disappear. No doubt the wealthy proprietor of the well-known twopenny Beauties could afford to pay Mr. Lorraine Vavasour’s bill twenty times over if necessary. Still, Dr. O’Grady had disappeared.

“You are all,” said Miss Blow passionately, “a lot of slanderous busy-bodies, telling lies and meddling with everybody’s business because you have no business of your own to attend to. My poor Lucius has been murdered among you, and now not one of you will help me to get at the truth; but I’ll do it in spite of you.”

Lord Manton looked at her. She was undeniably handsome; handsomer than ever now that she was in a rage. It occurred to him suddenly that Dr. O’Grady might have a reason for disappearing, quite unconnected with the money he owed. He was engaged to be married to Miss Blow. It was possible that the idea of home life with this masterful and passionate young woman for a partner might be rather terrifying. Besides, the wife who pays her husband’s debts for him has a hold over him ever afterwards; and Miss Blow seemed exactly the kind of lady who would take advantage of such a position. She would certainly make him aware of the fact. Lord Manton thought he understood at last why Dr. O’Grady had run away. Miss Blow’s face was buried in her handkerchief. She was not crying, but she was flushed after her outburst, and preferred to keep her face covered. Lord Manton ventured on a smile and a gentle chuckle.

“I assure you,” he said soothingly, “that he hasn’t been murdered. Who would murder him? Everybody in the neighbourhood was fond of him. I don’t think there was a man, woman, or child but loved him. I did myself.”

“If you loved him,” said Miss Blow, “show it now.”

“I will, with pleasure; but how?”

“Give me a search warrant.”

“A search warrant! But——”

“Yes, a search warrant; and I shall insist upon the police executing it.”

“I haven’t the least doubt you will; but—but what do you mean to search?”

“Every house in the neighbourhood. Every house until I find him.”

“But he isn’t in a house. Do try to be reasonable, Miss Blow. Even if he’s murdered—and I’m quite sure he’s not—he wouldn’t be in a house. His body would be hidden in a wood or a bog-hole or a river, or wherever it is that murderers usually do hide bodies.”

“You admit then that he has been murdered.”

“No, I don’t. You mustn’t catch up my words like that. All I said was that, if he had been murdered, he wouldn’t be living in a house, and so a search warrant wouldn’t be any use to you. You don’t really want a warrant at all. You don’t even want the police. All you have to do is to go prowling round the country, poking into any shadowy-looking hole you see with the point of your umbrella until you come across his body.”

The interview was beginning to tire Lord Manton. He was not accustomed to being bullied by handsome girls, and he did not like it.

“Perhaps you’d like to start at once,” he said politely.

“It’s impossible,” she said, “for me to search the country by myself.”

“Not at all. Nothing is impossible for a young lady of your energy. Start with the wood behind this house; it’s very thick in parts, quite a likely spot for a corpse; and come in here for lunch when you’ve finished.”

“Give me a written order to the police,” said Miss Blow, “commanding them to aid me in my search.”

“It wouldn’t be the least use to you, I assure you. You’ve no idea what independent people the police are. An order from me would simply put their backs up and make them determined not to help you.”

“Give me the order, and I’ll see that they execute it.”

“My dear Miss Blow, I can’t, I really can’t. Try the Chief Secretary. You’ll find him in his office at Dublin Castle. He’s a most agreeable man. You needn’t be the least bit afraid of him. Not that it’s likely you would be. He’s much more likely to be afraid of you. It won’t take you long. You can run up by the night mail and——”

“Give me the order.”

Lord Manton surrendered. He crossed the room, sat down at his desk, and wrote—

“Sergeant Farrelly, R.I.C. Kindly give all the assistance in your power to Miss Blow, the bearer of this note, who wishes to search the country for a dead body.—Manton.”

“If that is any use to you,” he said, “you’re welcome to it. Let me know how you get on. Any time you happen to find yourself near this house, drop in for luncheon or tea. Good-bye.”

Miss Blow rose, bowed, and left the room. Lord Manton rang the bell.

“Wilkins,” he said to his butler.

“Yes, my lord.”

“You saw that young lady who left the house just now? Very well, if she calls again and I happen to be out, you are to give her breakfast, luncheon, tea or dinner according to the hour of the day. If I happen to be at home you are to stay in the room during the time she is with me, as a chaperone. You understand, Wilkins?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“She doesn’t require a chaperone, but I do. I don’t feel safe when I’m alone with her. And Wilkins, if she brings a corpse along with her, either Dr. O’Grady’s corpse or any other, you will provide proper accommodation for it. Put it on the table in the servants’ hall with a sheet over it, and send out to the garden for flowers—white flowers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“One thing more, Wilkins; if Sergeant Farrelly or any policeman comes up here from the barracks either to-day or to-morrow and asks to see me, tell him I’m out, and that it won’t be the least use his waiting because I won’t be in before midnight and probably not then.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Wilkins left the room, and Lord Manton, taking the chair in which Miss Blow had been sitting, lit a cigarette. There was a stealthy step on the gravel outside. He looked up and saw Patsy Devlin’s face pressed against the window. He rose, opened the window, and asked Patsy what he wanted.

“Might I be so bold as to put a question to your lordship?”

“Is it about Miss Blow or Dr. O’Grady?”

“It is,” said Patsy. “It’s about the both of them.”

“Out with it, then. That young woman and her relations with the doctor form quite the most interesting subject I know at present.”

“Did your lordship keep the truth from her?”

“I did my best not to, Patsy; but I think I may safely say that I did.”

Patsy pondered this saying. The meaning was not immediately obvious to him.

“It’s what Jimmy O’Loughlin was saying to me last night,” he said, “that if so be she heard that the doctor had left her, the creature’s heart would be broke, and her as handsome a young girl as any you’d see.”

“At the present moment,” said Lord Manton, “she believes that you and Jimmy O’Loughlin have murdered the doctor and concealed his body in a bog hole.”

“The Lord save us and deliver us! Was there ne’er another story you could tell her only that? Sure the police will be out after us.”

“She went straight from this house to the barracks,” said Lord Manton, “and I shouldn’t wonder if you were arrested before night.”

“Be damn!” said Patsy, “saving your lordship’s presence; but they couldn’t take me for the like of that. There isn’t one in the country but knows that I wouldn’t lay a hand on the doctor, drunk or sober, not if it was to save my soul.”

“Don’t you be too sure,” said Lord Manton. “My own belief is that if Miss Blow doesn’t come across the doctor in the course of the next twenty-four hours, she’ll have you hanged for murdering him.”

“It’s joking you are. She couldn’t do it.”

“I am not joking. I defy any man to joke after spending half an hour with Miss Blow. She is the most determined young woman I ever met. She could do anything, absolutely anything. There isn’t a judge or a jury could stand out against her for an hour. If I were you, Patsy, I’d make a bolt for it and join the doctor in America. Your life’s not safe in this country. I expect by this time you have as much collected for the sports as would pay your passage out.”

“I have,” said Patsy; “but I’ll not go. I’ll stand my trial, if it comes to that, sooner than have people saying it of me that I ever laid a hand on the doctor.”

“It’s all very fine talking that way, but you won’t feel at all so confident when you see the judge putting on the black cap; and a little later on, when the rope’s round your neck, you’ll be sorry you didn’t take my advice. The thing for you to do is to skip while you’ve time. It’ll take Miss Blow a good while to persuade the police to arrest you, but she’ll do it in the end.”