Fear by Night (25 page)

Jimmy picked up the lantern and swung it out of the way.

“That's where the young man comes in,” he said in a tone of satisfaction.

Ann's heart gave a sudden leap. A terrible feeling of faintness had been creeping over her. And she mustn't faint. She must hear what they were saying. She mustn't miss a single word. She heard Jimmy say, “That's where the young man comes in,” and then the darkness round her filled with fiery sparks. Jimmy's voice seemed to come from a long way off. It said, “She'll do it fast enough to get him off.” And with that the sparks went out and she lost consciousness.

CHAPTER XXIX

Ann came to herself with a long sigh. It was quite dark, and she was very stiff and cramped. She moved, felt the cold side of the copper against her cheek, and remembered where she was. She had fainted, and just before she fainted Jimmy Halliday and Gale Anderson had been arguing over her head and the lantern-light had showed through a crack in the boards that covered her. Now everything was dark and silent. She wondered how long she had been here alone, and whether it would be safe for her to push the cover aside and climb out.

She knelt up and listened. She was very stiff indeed, so she thought that she must have been there some time. Her mind felt stiff too, and her thoughts wouldn't move. Jimmy and Gale Anderson had been talking when she fainted, but she couldn't remember what they were saying or why it should have made her faint. Then, in a flash, there it all was, quite sharp and clear—Jimmy talking about marrying her, and Gale Anderson saying, “Suppose she won't.” And then Jimmy had said, “That's where the young man comes in,” and, “She'll do it fast enough to get him off.” She had heard the words in a sort of fog of faintness; now they stood out clear. And they meant that Charles was alive—they couldn't mean anything else. They meant that Charles was alive, because you couldn't use a dead man to bargain with. If Jimmy said she would marry him to get Charles out of wherever they had put him, it meant that Charles was alive, and likely to stay alive.

Ann's heart filled with such a glow of blessed happiness that for a minute or two she forgot all about everything else. After being cold and hungry and afraid, she was all warm and comforted and lifted up. For the moment nothing else mattered. But the moment passed. Charles was alive, but she didn't know where he was, and she couldn't get to him. Or could she? That was what she had got to find out without an instant's delay.

She got to her feet, pushed the lid of the copper to one side, and climbed out. When she had pulled the lid back again she tried to get her bearings. As she stood facing the copper like this, the wash-tubs were on her right, the door of the kitchen behind her, and the corner with the barrel on her left. If she could move the barrel and raise the flagstone which it hid, she might be able to find Charles. No,
must
was right word, not might. She
must
find Charles, because they must get away out of this place before something dreadful happened.

She felt her way to the barrel and tried to move it. It was Mary's water-barrel, which Hector kept filled for her. She wouldn't be able to move it if it was full or even half full. She strained at it with all her might, and found she might just as well have tried to shift the copper.

Ann leaned against the barrel in despair. If she were twice as strong, she couldn't move it. Then what was she to do? Somewhere down under her feet was the way to Charles. And he might be hurt. They would never have got him there like that if he hadn't been hurt. She found herself trembling at the thought of Charles shut up in some horrible dark place—hurt. Then with a violent effort she steadied herself and tried to think clearly. The water in the barrel was used for drinking and cooking. When Hector was away Jimmy filled it. They pumped the water in the yard and carried it in buckets. There was a spigot a little more than half-way down, and when Mary wanted water she set a jug or a bucket under the spigot and turned the tap.

That was it. That was what she must do. She must run the water off until the barrel was light enough to move. She began to feel for the spigot. Her hands went up and down over the staves—up and down, and then sideways, and then up and down again. And there wasn't any spigot.

Ann put up a hand and pushed back her hair. It was
nonsense
—there
must
be a spigot—she had seen it. She had seen Mary stand the water-jug under it and turn the tap. She could hear her own voice saying, “What do you do when the water gets below the tap? Doesn't it get stale?” And Mary's answering, “We just tilt the barrel, and it does fine to wash the floor.”

So there was a spigot.… She felt for it again and found nothing but the smooth staves hooped with iron. There wasn't any spigot.

Then it came to her. The men had pushed the barrel back in a hurry and in the half light of the lantern. In pushing it they had turned the spigot to the wall.

Ann beat with her bare foot on the stone. She wondered whether she could bale the barrel out. It would take a long time. And suddenly she became aware that it was not quite dark any more. A square of grey sky showed through the window of the wash-house, and when she looked over her shoulder she could see through the open door into the kitchen. It was not morning yet, but the night was thinning away. And Hector would be up with the dawn. She must have been unconscious a long time, or unconsciousness must have passed into cramped, uneasy sleep. She remembered that she really did not know at what hour she had waked, to see the men come up from the loch.

It was getting a little lighter every moment. She couldn't do anything more to-night. It wouldn't help Charles if she were caught down here. The fact that she knew about the hole in the floor was her one advantage. If anyone found out that she knew, it would cease to be an advantage, because they would see to it that she didn't use her knowledge.

She came into the kitchen on cold, unsteady feet. If she went up the old stairs, she would have to pass the room where Hector was. She turned the other way and groped along the passage. It was still dark here, and dark on the stairs and the upper landing, but her own window showed a brightening sky above the black mass of the hills.

She crept into bed and covered herself to the chin. For the moment all the strength and courage had gone out of her. She had come to the end of both thinking and doing If it were to save her life, or Charles' life, she could neither think nor do any more. She fell asleep

CHAPTER XXX

Ann woke with a start to find a watery sun looking in on her. She sat up—remembering.

Yesterday seemed like a hundred years ago. Looking back at it was like looking through a black tunnel. It came to her in pictures. Jimmy crossing the lawn with a lantern in his hand. The lantern swinging. The other two men behind him carrying something long and dark—which was Charles. That was the first picture.

And then the empty dusk of the kitchen.

And then the gaping hole in the wash-house floor.

There wasn't a hole there now. The flagstone lay over it, and the barrel stood upon the stone. And somewhere underneath the stone there was Charles.

Ann jumped up and dressed herself. Her hands moved quickly, and her thoughts more quickly still. They raced through her mind like leaves in the wind, moving all the time, here and gone again. She must get Charles out. She could get him out by marrying Jimmy Halliday.

There was no fog this morning, and no wind. The sky was heavy with cloud, but every now and then the sun looked through. It was not at all cold, so why should she be shivering? There would be some other way of saving Charles—she needn't shiver at the thought of marrying Jimmy Halliday. It was silly to shiver about something that couldn't possibly happen.

She went down to breakfast without having been able to think of any plan for helping Charles. Even if she had a plan, she could do nothing by daylight.… Unless Mary helped her.

She found Gale Anderson and Jimmy Halliday in the dining-room. There were grilled herrings on the table, and a pile of fresh-baked oatcakes. Jimmy bade her good morning in the politest voice and, rising from his chair, indicated Gale Anderson with a wave of the hand.

“Good morning, Miss Vernon. Mr. Anderson has something to say to you.”

Mr. Anderson, who had been looking out of the window, advanced with a look of concern upon his face.

“Miss Vernon, I owe you a most sincere apology. I do hope that you are none the worse for your fall.”

Ann's eyebrows went up. She really couldn't help it. She said, “Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” and waited for more.

It came.

“Halliday tells me that I startled you. I need hardly say how sorry I am, but you know, you startled me quite horribly. When that stone fell and you slipped, I thought you were gone. When I found you were on the ledge, I did my best to reach you.”

Ann looked at him for a moment.

“I'm quite sure you did.”

Their eyes met, hers steady and indignant, his cool and smiling.

“That's very nice of you, Miss Vernon. You can imagine my horror when I saw you fall into the sea.”

“I don't like imagining things,” said Ann gravely. She took a chair and sat down by the table. “I should like half a herring, please, Mr. Halliday.”

Mrs. Halliday did not come down. Breakfast was not a very comfortable meal. Ann said, “Yes” or “No” when asked a direct question. Jimmy Halliday devoted himself to the consumption of herrings and oatcake.

As soon as breakfast was over he addressed Ann.

“Might I have a word with you, Miss Vernon, in the parlour?”

Ann's heart jumped. What was he going to say? Whatever it was, it was better for her to hear it. She followed him to the parlour, refused a chair, and stood by the window fingering the cord of the blind. It was some slight solace to see that Jimmy was not finding it easy to begin. He took a box of matches out of his pocket, rattled it, and put it back again. After which he wandered round the room clearing his throat and fingering any book or knick-knack within reach.

Ann watched him with a growing feeling of encouragement. If she embarrassed him like this, she could surely manage him. He picked up a photograph album, said “Miss Vernon—” and let it slip with a crash that shook the table.

“Yes, Mr. Halliday?”

“Miss Vernon—”

“Yes?”

Jimmy took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.

“It's a right down sultry morning—isn't it?”

“I thought it was rather chilly.”

Jimmy bent all his attention upon fastening the photograph album. It had a pointed gilt hasp upon one side and a round gilt stud upon the other. When the hasp had clicked home, he looked up with a reddened face, cleared his throat noisily, and again said,

“Miss Vernon—”

This time Ann decided to help him out. If there was anything she could do for Charles, she wanted to get on with it. She said in a small quiet voice,

“What do you want to say to me, Mr. Halliday?”

Jimmy mopped his brow again.

“That's where we come down to brass tacks. There's things I'm wishful to say to you, and things it'll be to your advantage to hear, but it isn't just as easy as you'd think to get them out, if you see what I mean.”

Ann twisted the cord of the blind rather tight about one of her fingers. She was paler than she knew, but her eyes looked steadily at Jimmy as she said,

“What do you want to say?”

Jimmy undid the gilt hasp again with a sharp jerk.

“You remember what I said to you yesterday about its being time an unprotected young lady like you was settled in life?”

“Did you say that?”

Jimmy banged the lid of the album.

“By gum I did! And a sensible young lady would have been thinking it over. A man that's come to my time of life don't say that kind of thing to a young lady unless he's got intentions, and a young lady that's had those expressions used towards her ought to have been thinking them over careful.”

Ann looked down at the little acorn which finished the cord of the blind. It lay in her palm and moved when she moved her hand. She felt a most desperate desire to laugh, or to cry. It would be quite easy to do both.

Jimmy Halliday cleared his throat. He was feeling better pleased with himself. He had got started. That was the main thing—to get started. He approved Ann's downcast eyes as an evidence of maidenly modesty. Her pallor pleased him too. He continued in a more assured voice.

“I'm not the man to say more than I mean. Rather less than more has been my motto, and not to go raising hopes. I won't say I haven't had my laugh and my joke here and there, and nothing serious meant, but I wouldn't have used the expressions I did to a young lady that I've a respect for if I hadn't meant what I said and a bit over.”

Ann would by this time have been considerably bewildered if she had not last night heard Jimmy Halliday announce his intention of marrying her. These preliminaries, therefore, did not obscure the issue. It remained bitterly clear in her mind, whilst above it there came and went like the wash of waves those impulses of laughter and tears. The tears were for Charles, the laughter for Jimmy Halliday's stumbling courtship, and the bitter fear for herself, because in the last resort she might have to buy Charles' freedom.

Jimmy was saying, “There's a time when a man feels he ought to settle down, and that's a thing he don't feel drawn to do by himself.”

“I'm sure Mrs. Halliday wouldn't dream of leaving you,” said Ann innocently

It pleased her to see how red Jimmy got. His ears positively glowed.

“Well,” he said, “that's not just what I meant—not but what the old lady won't be always kindly welcome. But I was thinking more about marrying, if you take my meaning.”

To Ann's rage, she blushed. Jimmy, much heartened by her colour, went on.