No Man's Island Part 12

"The servants' quarters are at the back," said Pratt. "The foreigners at any rate don't play high jinks in the front rooms while my uncle is away. But it looks pretty dreary, doesn't it, old man? Makes me think of Mariana in the moated grange."

"Don't know the lady," said Armstrong. "But look! there's a car coming out of the garage at the side."

"That used to be the stables," said Pratt, as the doors were flung wide, and an open four-seated touring car emerged. "That's not the car we saw the other day, though the chauffeur's the same."

Perched on the wall they remained watching. The chauffeur stopped the car, got out, and shut the doors of the garage. Meanwhile the big fellow whom Armstrong had felled came round the other side of the house carrying a small leather trunk. Behind him walked a short, dapper little man, wearing a grey Homburg hat and a light overcoat. From his gestures it appeared that he ordered the big man to strap the trunk on to the luggage-carrier at the rear of the car. When this was done, the small man got into one of the back seats, and the chauffeur, already at the wheel, started the car along the right-hand fork in the drive leading to the open gate.

"Down! They mustn't see us," said Pratt.

They dropped from the wall into the grounds, and s.h.i.+nned up a small tree whose thick-laden branches overhung the edge of the road. Half a minute later the car ran past, swung to the right outside the gate, and dashed rather noisily in the direction of Dartmouth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THEY s.h.i.+NNED UP A SMALL TREE."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HALF A MINUTE LATER THE CAR RAN PAST."]

"The pa.s.senger is my uncle's secretary, I suppose," said Pratt. "I wonder which of the many nations of the world claims him? He might pa.s.s for an Englishman, but you can't tell from a fugitive glance when a man's clean-shaven."

"I thought he looked a decent sort of chap," said Armstrong, as they returned to the road; "not the kind of fellow to consort with a man like Rush."

"No. I dare say Rush is playing some game of his own with one of the underlings. I'll tell you my idea, by the way. Leaving us alone last night struck me as rather suspicious. They've probably got something in hand for to-night. Well, it occurred to me that if Rush comes prowling around our tent, with more tin-tacks or who knows what, it would be rather a good dodge to trip him up and collar him before he can hook it."

"He'll guess we're on the watch. No man would be such an a.s.s as to suppose we'd let him do the tin-tack trick a second time."

"That may be. Very likely he kept off last night just for that reason.

As you say, he'd guess we'd be on the watch, and probably thinks we're all jolly sick to-day because nothing happened, and won't be inclined to keep vigil again. Anyhow, if he does come again, he won't expect any danger until he gets near to the tent, and I propose to nab him before then."

"How?"

"Stretch a cord two or three inches above the ground just where the thicket ends at the edge of the clearing. He wouldn't see it, even by moonlight, because it would be pretty well hidden by the gra.s.s. But he'd be bound to catch one of his hoofs in it, and a lumbering lout like that couldn't pick himself up before any one of us three would be down on him."

"But how d'you know which way he'd come?"

"He wouldn't come across the clearing, that's certain. Well, the tent is about six yards from the thicket behind, and the edge of the thicket makes a sort of rough half-circle. A cord of fifty or sixty yards would be plenty long enough. I dare say we'll get one at old Blevins's shop.

We'll pay him a call on the way back."

The shop was unattended when they entered it, but a rap on the counter brought Blevins himself, wearing the polite tradesman's smile.

"Good-morning, Mr. Blevins," said Pratt. "You've a motor-car for hire, I believe?"

"Well, yes, sir, I do have as a rule, but 'tis out to-day. In fact, I don't know when it will be back. 'Tis hired for the Red House, Mr.

Pratt's being under repair."

"Ah! that's a pity. We'll have to put off our joy-ride. Well, it can't be helped. Perhaps you could let us have a skipping-rope instead?"

"A skipping-rope, sir?"

"Yes. Didn't you know? Skipping is one of the most beneficial exercises any one could indulge in. It brings into play I forget exactly how many muscles, develops a perfect co-ordination between the brain, the eye, the hands and feet; and if you ever go to Oxford, I dare say you'll see on any college lawn all the brainiest men of the rising generation skipping about under the eyes of their revered tutors. If the mountains could skip like rams, as we're told they did, there's nothing surprising in a future Prime Minister skipping like a giddy goat, is there? And there are hundreds of future Prime Ministers imbibing the milk of academic instruction at Oxford to-day."

Blevins had listened with a stare of puzzlement. The short, chubby youth appeared to be serious; his companion's face showed no flicker of a smile; yet the general dealer, remembering what his a.s.sistant had told him, had a dim suspicion that he was dealing either with a joker or with a lunatic. To get rid of his dilemma he confined himself to the severely practical.

"Well, sir," he said, "I don't keep skipping-ropes as such, but I've a cord which the neighbours do make clothes-line of."

"The very thing!" cried Pratt. "We haven't made any arrangements about our was.h.i.+ng, and, as laundry prices have gone up beyond all bearing, we may have to do our own. Of course we shall want a clothes-line for hanging out our s.h.i.+rts and things on, and as my friends are regular nuts, and possess a very extensive wardrobe, we shall want a long line--quite fifty yards. Add ten yards for a skipping-rope, that makes sixty; we'll take sixty yards, Mr. Blevins; and as you can't possibly make a neat parcel of that, you'd better twist 'em round the hefty frame of my friend here; sort of bandolier, you know."

The man proceeded to measure out the cord from a bale which he rolled from his back premises.

"You be camping on No Man's Island, 'tis said," he remarked.

"We are," replied Pratt. "We're followers of the simple life; fresh air, cold water, and plain fare. We drink nothing stronger than ginger-beer, and eat nothing more luxurious than macaroons, and I suppose we can't get even them in a place like this? What's the consequence? We never have bad dreams, like people who stuff themselves and sleep in stuffy rooms."

"And you haven't been troubled by the sounds, sir?"

"What sounds?"

"Well--some folks do talk of terrible groans they've heard if so be they've rowed past the island by night, and 'tis said the place is haunted by the spirit of the old gentleman as used to live there."

"He hasn't disturbed our rest, I a.s.sure you. I dare say he's been soothed by my banjo; I usually tune up a little before I go to bed. You play the banjo yourself, I hear; you know how grateful and comforting it is--sweet and low, not like the squeaking sc.r.a.pe of the violin, or the ear-splitting blast of the cornet. I think you're a man of taste, Mr.

Blevins, and as a fellow-musician I congratulate you.... That's sixty yards? Now, Armstrong, stick out your chest, and Mr. Blevins and I between us will rig up your bandolier."

When they had left the shop, Pratt asked: "I say, what's he mean by those old groans?"

"I heard a sort of moaning the night I first saw the cottage," Armstrong replied; "but I put it down to the wind, of course."

"There's been no wind to speak of since we settled on the island. I'd like to hear those sounds. Strikes me they're an acoustical phenomenon.

Sure it wasn't an owl?"

"Nothing like it; the note was deeper and more prolonged."

"Well, if it's the wind in the eaves the sound will be heard by day as well as by night, and I'll trot over to the cottage the first breezy morning and listen."

Warrender had nothing to report when they regained the camp. He thought well of Pratt's idea of a trap, and they spent the greater part of the day in cutting a number of stout pegs from saplings in the woods. These they drove into the ground, at intervals of a few feet, in a long semi-circle at the edge of the clearing, and stretched the clothes-line upon them about six inches from the ground. One or other of them kept a careful look-out while the work was in progress, and nothing was seen of Rush or any other human being. Before dusk the task was completed, and they had provided themselves in addition with stout cudgels.

It was Pratt's turn to take first watch that night. On the previous night each had sat out in the open, but it occurred to Pratt that a better place would be just within the tent. Accordingly, when the others encased themselves in their sleeping-bags, he posted himself on his chair at the entrance, shaded from the moonlight by the projecting flap.

More than two hours had pa.s.sed; he was growing sleepy, frequently glancing at his watch to see when it would be time to awaken Warrender.

Just before half-past eleven he heard a slight sound from the thicket on his right. Seizing his cudgel, he looked in the direction of the sound.

The edge of the clearing on that side was deep in shadow. He stood up; it might be a false alarm; he would not awaken his companions.

Suddenly there was a heavy thud, followed by smothered curses. Pratt dashed out of the tent and across the clearing. At the edge of the thicket a man was struggling to his feet. Even at that moment Pratt was too much of a sportsman to use his cudgel. He closed with the man, gripped him by the collar, and hauled him into the moonlight, crying, "What are you doing here?" The man attempted to wriggle loose. Pratt dropped his cudgel, got a firm grip with both hands, and with a dexterous use of his knee threw the intruder heavily to the ground.

Next moment he was struck violently on the left side of his head, and fell half-stunned.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "PRATT THREW THE INTRUDER HEAVILY TO THE GROUND."]

Meanwhile the sounds had wakened Armstrong and Warrender. Heaving themselves out of their sleeping-bags they rushed in their pyjamas across the clearing. Pratt was sitting up, dazedly rubbing his head.

"What's the row?" asked Armstrong.

"Diamond cut diamond," murmured Pratt. "Help me up, you fellows.