Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) (572 page)

“That’s all right,” said Farintosh. “You leave it to me. If we go up quietly and openly, and come down quietly and openly, who is to suspect anything? Our horses will be outside, in Woodley Street, and we’ll be out of their reach in no time. Shall we say to-morrow evening for the job?”

“That’s very early,” Williams cried tremulously.

“The sooner the better,” Burt said, with an oath. “And look here, young man,” fixing Williams with his bloodshot eyes, “one sign of drawing back, and by the living jingo I’ll let you have more than I’m keeping for him. You hear me, eh?” He grasped the youth’s white wrist and squeezed it in his iron grip until he writhed with the pain.

“Oh, I’m with you, heart and soul,” he cried. “I’m sure what you and

Mr. Farintosh advise must be for the best.”

“Meet here at eight o’clock to-morrow night then,” said the leader.

“We can get it over by nine, and we will have the night for our escape.

I’ll have the horses ready, and it will be strange if we don’t get such

a start as will puzzle them.”

So, having arranged all the details of their little plan, these three gentlemen departed in different directions — Farintosh to the Central Hotel, to give Ezra his evening report, and the others to the mining-camps, which were the scene of their labours.

The meeting just described took place upon a Tuesday, early in November. On the Saturday Ezra Girdlestone had fully made up his mind to turn his back upon the diggings and begin his homeward journey. He was pining for the pleasures of his old London life, and was weary of the monotonous expanse of the South African veldt. His task was done, too, and it would be well for him to be at a distance before the diggers discovered the manner in which they had been hoaxed. He began to pack his boxes, therefore, and to make every preparation for his departure.

He was busily engaged in this employment upon the Wednesday evening when there was a tap at the door and Farintosh walked in, accompanied by Burt and Williams. Girdlestone glanced up at them, and greeted them briefly. He was not surprised at their visit, for they had come together several times before to report progress or make arrangements. Farintosh bowed as he entered the room, Burt nodded, and Williams rubbed his hands together and looked amiably bilious.

“We looked in, Mr. Girdlestone,” Farintosh began, “to learn if you had any commands for us.”

“I told you before that I had not,” Ezra said curtly. “I am going on

Saturday. I have made a mistake in speculating on those diamonds.

Prices are sinking lower and lower.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Farintosh sympathetically. “Maybe the market will take a turn.”

“Let us hope so,” the merchant answered. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“But you are satisfied with us, guv’nor,” Burt struck in, pushing his bulky form in front of Farintosh. “We have done our work all right, haven’t we?”

“I have nothing to complain of,” Ezra said coldly.

“Well then, guv’nor, you surely ain’t going away without leaving us nothing to remembrance you with, seeing that we’ve stood by you and never gone back on you.”

“You have been paid every week for what you have done,” the young man said. “You won’t get another penny out of me, so you set your mind at rest about that.”

“You won’t give us nothing?” cried the navvy angrily.

“No, I won’t; and I’ll tell you what it is, Burt, big as you are, if you dare to raise your voice in my presence I’ll give you the soundest hiding that ever you had in your life.”

Ezra had stood up and showed every indication of being as good as his word.

“Don’t let us quarrel the last time we may meet,” Farintosh cried, intervening between the two. “It is not money we expect from you. All we want is a drain of rum to drink success to you with.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” said the young merchant — and turned round to pick up the bottle which stood on a table behind him. Quick as a flash Burt sprang upon him and struck him down with a life-preserver. With a gasping cry and a heavy thud Ezra fell face downwards upon the floor, the bottle still clutched in his senseless hand, and the escaping rum forming a horrible mixture with the blood which streamed from a great gash in his head.

“Very neat — very pretty indeed!” cried the ex-parson, in a quiet tone of critical satisfaction, as a connoisseur might speak of a specimen which interested him. He was already busy at the door of the safe.

“Well done, Mr. Burt, well done!” cried Williams, in a quivering voice; and going up to the body he kicked it in the side. “You see I am not afraid, Mr. Burt, am I?”

“Stow your gab!” snarled the navvy. “Here’s the rum all gettin’ loose.”

Picking up the bottle he took a pull of what was left in it.

“Here’s the bag, parson,” he whispered, pulling a black linen bag from

his pocket. “We haven’t made much noise over the job.”

“Here are the stones,” said Farintosh, in the same quiet voice. “Hold the mouth open.” He emptied an avalanche of diamonds into the receptacle. “Here are some notes and gold. We may as well have them too. Now, tie it up carefully. That’s the way! If we meet any one on the stairs, take it coolly. Turn that lamp out, Williams, so that if any one looks in he’ll see nothing. Come along!”

The guilty trio stole out of the room, bearing their plunder with them, and walked down the passage of the hotel unmolested and unharmed.

The moon, as it rose over the veldt that night, shone on three horsemen spurring it along the Capetown road as though their very lives depended upon their speed. Its calm, clear rays streamed over the silent roofs of Kimberley and in through a particular window of the Central Hotel, throwing silvery patches upon the carpet, and casting strange shadows from the figure which lay as it had fallen, huddled in an ungainly heap upon the floor.

CHAPTER XXII
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ROBBERS AND ROBBED
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It might perhaps have been as well for the curtailing of this narrative, and for the interests of the world at large if the blow dealt by the sturdy right arm of the navvy had cut short once for all the career of the junior African merchant. Ezra, however, was endowed with a rare vitality, which enabled him not only to shake off the effects of his mishap, but to do so in an extraordinarily short space of time. There was a groan from the prostrate figure, then a feeble movement, then another and a louder groan, and then an oath. Gradually raising himself upon his elbow, he looked around him in a bewildered way, with his other hand pressed to the wound at the back of his head, from which a few narrow little rivulets of blood were still meandering. His glance wandered vaguely over the table and the chairs and the walls, until it rested upon the safe. He could see in the moonlight that it was open, and empty. In a moment the whole circumstances of the case came back to him, and he staggered to the door with a hoarse cry of rage and of despair.

Whatever Ezra’s faults may have been, irresolution or want of courage were not among them. In a moment he grasped the situation, and realised that it was absolutely essential that he should act, and at once. The stones must be recovered, or utter and irretrievable ruin stared him in the face. At his cries the landlord and several attendants, white and black, came rushing into the room.

“I’ve been robbed and assaulted,” Ezra said, steadying himself against the mantelpiece, for he was still weak and giddy. “Don’t all start cackling, but do what I ask you. Light the lamp!”

The lamp was lit, and there was a murmur from the little knot of employees, reinforced by some late loungers at the bar, as they saw the disordered room and the great crimson patch upon the carpet.

“The thieves called at nine,” said Ezra, talking rapidly, but collectedly. “Their names were Farintosh, Burt, and Williams. We talked for, some little time, so they probably did not leave the house before a quarter past at the soonest. It is now half-past ten, so they have no very great start. You, Jamieson, and you, Van Muller, run out and find if three men have been seen getting away. Perhaps they took a buggy. Go up and down, and ask all you see. You, Jones, go as hard as you can to Inspector Ainslie. Tell him there has been robbery and attempted murder, and say that I want half a dozen of his best mounted men — not his best men, you understand, but his best horses. I shall see that he is no loser if he is smart. Where’s my servant Pete? Pete, you dog, get my horse saddled and bring her round. She ought to be able to catch anything in Griqualand.”

As Ezra gave his orders the men hurried off in different directions to carry them out. He himself commenced to arrange his dress, and tied a handkerchief tightly round his head.

“Surely you are not going, sir?” the landlord said, “You are not fit.”

“Fit or not, I am going,” Ezra said resolutely. “If I have to be strapped to my horse I’ll go. Send me up some brandy. Put some in a flask, too. I may feel faint before I get back.”

A great concourse of people had assembled by this time, attracted by the report of the robbery. The whole square in front of the hotel was crowded with diggers and store-keepers and innumerable Kaffirs, all pressing up to the portico in the hope of hearing some fresh details. Mr. Hector O’Flaherty, over the way, was already busy setting up his type in preparation for a special edition, in which the Vaal River Advertiser should give its version of the affair. In the office the great man himself, who was just convalescing from an attack of ardent spirits, was busily engaged, with a wet towel round his head, writing a leader upon the event. This production, which was very sonorous and effective, was peppered all over with such phrases as “protection of property,” “outraged majesty of the law,” and “scum of civilization” — expressions which had been used so continuously by Mr. O’Flaherty, that he had come to think that he had a copyright in them, and loudly accused the London papers of plagiarism if he happened to see them in their columns.

There was a buzz of excitement among the crowd when Ezra appeared on the steps of the hotel, looking as white as a sheet, with a handkerchief bound round his head and his collar all crusted with blood. As he mounted his horse one of his emissaries rushed to him.

“If you please, sir,” he said, “they have taken the Capetown road. A dozen people saw them. Their horses were not up to much, for I know the man they got them from. You are sure to catch them.”

A smile played over Ezra’s pale face, which boded little good for the fugitives. “Curse those police!” he cried; “are they never going to come?”

“Here they are!” said the landlord; and sure enough, with a jingling of arms and a clatter of hoofs, half a dozen of the Griqualand Mounted Constabulary trotted through the crowd and drew up in front of the steps. They were smart, active young fellows, armed with revolver and sabre, and their horses were tough brutes, uncomely to look at, but with wonderful staying power. Ezra noted the fact with satisfaction as he rode up to the grizzled sergeant in command.

“There’s not a moment to be lost, sergeant,” he said. “They have an hour and a half’s start, but their cattle are not up to much. Come on! It’s the Capetown road. A hundred pounds if we catch them!”

“Threes!” roared the sergeant. “Right half turn — trot!” The crowd split asunder, and the little troop, with Ezra at their head, clove a path through them. “Gallop!” shouted the sergeant, and away they clattered down the High Street of Kimberley, striking fire out of the stone and splashing up the gravel, until the sound of their hoofs died away into a dull, subdued rattle, and finally faded altogether from the ears of the listening crowd.

For the first few miles the party galloped in silence. The moon was still shining brilliantly, and they could see the white line of the road stretching out in front of them and winding away over the undulating veldt. To right and left spread a broad expanse of wiry grass stretching to the horizon, with low bushes and scrub scattered over it in patches. Here and there were groups of long-legged, unhealthy-looking sheep, who crashed through the bushes in wild terror as the riders swept by them. Their plaintive calls were the only sounds which broke the silence of the night, save the occasional dismal hooting of the veldt owl.

Ezra, on his powerful grey, had been riding somewhat ahead of the troopers, but the sergeant managed to get abreast of him. “Beg pardon, sir,” he said, raising his hand to his kepi, “but don’t you think this pace is too good to last? The horses will be blown.”

“As long as we catch them,” Ezra answered, “I don’t care what becomes of the horses. I would sooner stand you a dozen horses apiece than let them get away.”

The young merchant’s words were firm and his seat steady, in spite of the throbbing at his head. The fury in his heart supplied him with strength, and he gnawed his moustache in his impatience and dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks until the blood trickled down its glossy coat. Fortune, reputation, above all, revenge, all depended upon the issue of this headlong chase through the darkness.

The sergeant and Ezra galloped along, leather to leather, and rein to rein, while the troop clattered in their rear. “There’s Combrink about two miles further on,” said the sergeant; “we will hear news of them there.”

“They can’t get off the high road, can they?”

“Not likely, sir. They couldn’t get along as fast anywhere else. Indeed, it’s hardly safe riding across the veldt. They might be down a pit before they knew of it.”

“As long as they are on the road, we must catch them,” quoth Ezra; “for if it ran straight from here to hell I would follow them there.”

“And we’d stand by you, sir,” said the sergeant, catching something of his companion’s enthusiasm. “At this pace, if the horses hold out, we might catch them before morning. There are the lights of the shanty.”

As he spoke they were galloping round a long curve in the road, at the further end of which there was a feeble yellow glimmer. As they came abreast of it they saw that the light came through an open door, in the centre of which a burly Afrikaner was standing with his hands in his breeches pockets and his pipe in his mouth.

“Good evening,” said the sergeant, as his men pulled up their reeking horses. “Has any one passed this way before us?”

“Many a tausand has passed this way before you,” said the Dutchman, taking his pipe out of his mouth to laugh.

“To-night, man, to-night!” the sergeant cried angrily.

“Oh yes; down the Port Elizabeth Road there, not one hour ago. Three men riding fit to kill their horses.”

“That’ll do,” Ezra shouted; and away they went once more down the broad white road. They passed Bluewater’s Drift at two in the morning, and were at Van Hayden’s farm at half-past. At three they left the Modder River far behind them, and at a quarter past four they swept down the main street of the little township of Jacobsdal, their horses weak and weary and all mottled with foam. There was a police patrol in the street.

“Has any one passed?” cried the sergeant.

“Three men, a quarter of an hour ago.”

“Have they gone on?”

“Straight on. Their horses were nearly dead beat, though.”

“Come on!” cried Ezra eagerly. “Come on!”

“Four of the horses are exhausted, sir,” said the sergeant.

“They can’t move another step.”

“Come on without them then.”

“The patrol could come,” the sergeant suggested.

“I should have to report myself at the office, sir,” said the trooper.

“Jump on to his horse, sergeant,” cried Ezra. “He can take yours to report himself on. Now then you and I at least are bound to come up with them. Forward! gallop!” And they started off once more on their wild career, rousing the quiet burghers of Jacobsdal by the wild turmoil of their hoofs.

Out once more upon the Port Elizabeth Road it was a clear race between the pursuers and the pursued. The former knew that the fugitives, were it daytime, would possibly be within sight of them, and the thought gave them additional ardour. The sergeant having a fresh horse rode in front, his head down and his body forward, getting every possible inch of pace out of the animal. At his heels came Ezra, on his gallant grey, the blood-stained handkerchief fluttering from his head. He was sitting very straight in his saddle with a set stern smile upon his lips. In his right hand he held a cocked revolver. A hundred yards or so behind them the two remaining troopers came toiling along upon their weary nags, working hard with whip and spur to stimulate them to further exertions. Away in the east a long rosy streak lay low upon the horizon, which showed that dawn was approaching, and a grey light stole over the landscape. Suddenly the sergeant pulled his horse up.

“There’s some one coming towards us,” he cried.

Ezra and the troopers halted their panting steeds. Through the uncertain light they saw a solitary horseman riding down the road. At first they had thought that it might possibly be one of the fugitives who had turned, but as he came nearer they perceived that it was a stranger. His clothes were so dusty and his horse so foam-flecked and weary that it was evident that he also had left many a long mile of road behind him.

“Have you seen three men on horseback?” cried Ezra as he approached.

“I spoke to them,” the traveller answered. “They are about half a mile ahead.”

“Come on! Come on!” Ezra shouted.

“I am bringing news from Jagersfontein—” the man said.

“Come on!” Ezra interrupted furiously; and the horses stretched their stiff limbs into a feeble lumbering gallop. Ezra and the sergeant shot to the front, and the others followed as best they might. Suddenly in the stillness they heard far away a dull rattling sound like the clatter of distant castanets. “It’s their horses’ hoofs!” cried Ezra; and the troopers behind raised a cheer to show that they too understood the significance of the sound.

It was a wild, lonely spot, where the plain was bare even of the scanty foliage which usually covered it. Here and there great granite rocks protruded from the brown soil, as though Nature’s covering had in bygone days been rent until her gaunt bones protruded through the wound. As Ezra and the sergeant swept round a sharp turn in the road they saw, some little way ahead of them, the three fugitives, enveloped in a cloud of dust. Almost at the same moment they heard a shout and crash behind them, and, looking round, saw a confused heap upon the ground. The horse of the leading trooper had fallen from pure fatigue, and had rolled over upon its rider. The other trooper had dismounted, and was endeavouring to extricate his companion.

“Let us see if he is hurt,” the sergeant cried.