Storm Music (1934) (17 page)

Read Storm Music (1934) Online

Authors: Dornford Yates

BOOK: Storm Music (1934)
10.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Chapter 19

"IF YOU would like assistance, you've only to say the word. We're none of us ladies' maids, but Rush has the reputation of being a ladies' man," said Pharaoh.

As I came to their head I became aware of a radiance— a faint suggestion of light, enough to outline the doorway that gave to the little hall. Another step, and I heard the drone of a voice.

I entered the hall a-tiptoe.

One of its doors was half open— not that of the staircase which led to Helena's room. Beyond this a light was burning, the light of a torch— and an ice cold voice was teaching a bitter sentence to cut like a whetted knife.

"So you see, there's not much left. Tomorrow morning, no doubt, order will be restored. Very likely the police will arrive. They won't arrive tonight, for the telephone isn't working. I'm afraid I'm to blame for that. The search, which is now proceeding in a somewhat haphazard way, will be organised: clues will be sifted: the abduction will be reconstructed. Your sheets are below the ramparts, so they'll know you were taken that way. Your handkerchief lies on the drawbridge: the slipper which you kicked off will be found in the fields. I expect they'll employ your Alsatian— I'm sure I should. But as I carried you here, I don't think that he will come off. One has to think of these things. Be that as it may, no stone will be left unturned to find the beautiful Countess— you really are lovely, you know— the worshipful mistress of Yorick, that carted her drunken brother out of her way. And all the time you'll be here, sharing this somewhat unfriendly chamber, with me and my friends ... You do see the point, don't you? They won't search the castle, because they'll know for certain we're none of us here. You didn't search it this morning—you knew I was gone. And if they did search the castle, I hardly think Florin would let them look in this room. It's cleverly done, that door. You've got to be curious to find it, and an expert to find its lock. I'm both. I found them on Wednesday evening— with the help of your brother's key. I need hardly say that had I known that the key which you handed the warden was his, and not yours, we should have adjourned to this chamber this morning, instead of tonight. However, all's well that ends well ..."

A stealthy step behind me remembered Rush.

As I turned, he was locking the door at the head of the curling stair.

For a fraction of a second I hesitated. Rush was at my mercy. Was this the time to unmask? And then I decided to stake my winnings once more.

Rush straightened his back and turned to the half-open door. Then he hung on his heel for an instant, to breathe in my ear.

"Come on, you old — . I'll give you Pharaoh's a genius. He's got little Sheba cold."

HERE, since it bears upon my story, I must describe how you entered that secret room.

This was the way of it.

In the massive door from the hall the keyhole was set to the right, and when you had turned the key, the iron-studded door opened inwards and so to the left. At once you found yourself at the foot of a staircase-turret, the steps of which rose to the right and, after three or four rises, curled out of your view.

Now the door was very heavy and, not being truly hung, had to be held open: if it were not so held, it at once swung back to its frame and, since its lock was a springlock, shut itself fast. A catch was therefore provided, to prevent it from playing this trick—the sort of self-acting catch that is used for an entrance gate: and to bring this catch into action you had but to open the door as wide as you could. But by so doing you were masking another door.

Enter the turret and let the door shut behind you, and there in the wall which the door, when open, had hidden, was another smaller doorway which gave to the secret room. The door which it framed was also of oak and iron, but though it boasted a handle, there was no keyhole at all. It was, in fact, locked by the catch which held open the major door. Turn this catch to one side, and the minor door would swing open without a sound.

From within the room this door, when shut, could neither be opened nor seen, because it was backed with the woodwork which covered the walls.

All this, of course, I learned later. All that I knew at the moment was that the door to the room had been "cleverly done."

Rush whispered over his shoulder:

"Watch out for this door. It's wedged."

He sidled round the oak, and I followed, with a hand on my pistol and Geoffrey's knife in my sleeve.

I shall never forget the scene, which seemed to belong to the dark of the Middle Ages, to the stealth of the Holy Office, to that frightful gallery of horror where the wicked have sat in judgment upon the good.

Only one torch was alight, and this was so held by Dewdrop that its beam fell on Helena's face. To this the eye naturally turned, and in an instant the rest of the room was black.

She was sitting upright on a bench, with her back to the panelled wall. The neck of her dress was torn and had fallen from one of her shoulders, leaving this naked except for a pink silk strap. Her eyes were lowered to avoid the glare of the torch, but her beautiful head was high, and for all the emotion she showed she might have been sitting in church. If any thing, her air was listless: she did not seem to be breathing, she sat so still.

The sight of her captive and desolate hit me hard.

The beam of the torch was blinding, and I shut my eyes and sank my chin on my chest. I wanted to be able to see where Pharaoh was. Rush was beside me, he had lingered a moment to take up the wedge and to lock the major door, but now he was standing beside me— I could hear the reptile licking his beastly lips. And Dewdrop, a pace or two distant, was holding the torch. But I had not distinguished Pharaoh, and Pharaoh was first on my list. Then the man spoke again, and I knew that he was standing or sitting on the farther side of the room.

"As always, I'm perfectly frank. My hand is upon the treasure. It's simply a question of testing these walls and this floor. But I can't get it out of the castle— at least, not as much as I want. I don't like to use the drawbridge. I believe even your bucolics would find that strange. But I know there's another way out. You took it with Mr. Spencer five nights ago."

There was a little silence. Then: "Go on," said Helena quietly.

"You will tell me that way," said Pharaoh.

"And then?"

"We shall work till dawn, removing as much as we can."

"And then?"

"We shall clear up and go," said Pharaoh. "And you will be free. I hardly think you'll want anybody to find us— in possession of so much gold."

" 'Clear up and go,' " said Helena. "What do you mean by 'clear up'?"

"I mean what you think I mean. There's a nuisance I've got to abate."

"If you were honest, you'd say 'a score to settle.' "

"I prefer the term 'nuisance.' Still, that may have to wait a little. At dawn we shall leave the castle, and you will be free."

Helena took a deep breath.

"I see," she said. "And now I'll tell you something. You've got a long way, but a long way is never enough. You know that you're near the gold, but you don't know how to reach it. It's very well to talk of testing these walls and this floor, but that's a job for a mason, and you know it as well as I. But if the gold was here, as you admitted just now, you couldn't get it away. More. So long as you stay here, you're safe, for no one will open this room. But the longer you stay here, the slighter your chance of escape. You've only the Rolls and my men will very soon find that, looking for me. And tomorrow, as you surmise, order will be restored. Quite good order, I warn you: Mr. Bohun will see to that. If you wait till then, therefore, you will have to cut your way out. You'll have no gold to carry, so that should be easy enough: but once you are out you'll have no sort of transport, and the park will be full of my people, looking for me. Of course, as I say, if you stay here, you're perfectly safe. But you've neither food nor water, and nothing that you can think of will make me talk."

"What, nothing?" said Pharaoh.

"Nothing," said Helena, calmly. "You've no one here to torture, and I'm not afraid for myself. For the moment I'm up against it: but you are up against time."

It was clear that she meant what she said: her fearlessness was sublime: there were things in Hell undreamt of in her philosophy.

The fellow toyed with the screw.

"It certainly looks," he said, "as though we shan't be able to finish tonight. Still, these things shouldn't be rushed. And you know I can't help feeling that twenty-four hours in this chamber will help you to change your mind. The quarters are close, aren't they?"

"SO much," said Helena, calmly, "may happen in twenty-four hours."

I heard Rush swallow uneasily.

"Will happen," said Pharaoh. "Will— outside in the world. But here ... Is that door shut and locked?"

"Yes." said Rush.

"As I was saying, here we are out of the world, and time will stand still. Outside—well, the warden will rage and your people imagine vain things. Mr. Bohun will organise. Mr. Spencer will grin like a dog, and run about the—"

"Mr. Spencer's the rock you've split on from first to last."

"In a sense that's true," said Pharaoh. "I frankly admit I'm more accustomed to dealing with knaves than fools. And he's been very fortunate so far; but I don't think his luck will last. It's all my fault," he sighed. "I've only myself to thank. But he made such an excellent lever that against my better judgment I let him live. But there— we all make mistakes. To be perfectly honest, I went to the forester's cottage because I believed he was there. I didn't need you, you know. I already knew of this room."

"You seem to need me now."

"Quite," said Pharaoh, "quite. But that's because your brother has gone. As a host— well, his hospitality left nothing to be desired. I find you more exacting. Never mind. About Mr. Spencer. You know I did give him a chance. I actually wrote him a note, containing some good advice."

"People like Mr. Spencer don't take any notice of threats."

"Perhaps the gods love them," said Pharaoh. "They always die young."

"Mr. Spencer has spoiled your game— and he isn't dead yet. Mr. Spencer has forced your hand, and he's singed your beard— and he isn't dead yet."

"I assure you," said Pharaoh, "it's only a matter of time." A gust of passion suddenly shook his accents. "If he goes to Tibet, I'll get him." The gust died down, and he laughed. "Stupid," he murmured. "Let's say I don't like his face."

"You don't like him because you fear him."

"He may prove inconvenient. Unabated nuisances sometimes do."

"It isn't his tongue that you fear. You fear his hand."

"But you don't, do you?" flashed Pharaoh. "It's astonishing how you've fallen for that young calf. And it isn't as if you were plain. Mountebanks weren't meant for Madonnas. And so many better men would be happy to share your cottage and sleep in the room above yours ... But there you are. There's no accounting for tastes. And at least you've seen something of each other ... "

To this day I do not know how I held myself in. I sought to fix my gaze on the truth that my turn was coming; that I was going to kill Pharaoh and ram his foul contumely down his rattling throat.

I could just distinguish the man, but the resolute beam from the torch went far to distract my eye. I could make out that he was sitting astride a chair, about six paces from Dewdrop, close to the wall. There was furniture standing between us, a massive writing-table against which Dewdrop was leaning, holding the torch.

For fear of missing my man, I dared not fire upon him from where I stood. Reach him I could not, without crossing the beam of the torch, and, remembering our brush in the forest, I feared lest his swiftness of action should once again save his life. Though the others were at my mercy, it would have been more than folly to strike them down.

I must bide my time— somehow.

"I told you I had no scruples." The voice was cold and harsh as the Vardar wind. "Am I to demonstrate this?"

Helena shrugged her shoulders.

"That's a matter for you— not me. I find it sufficiently obvious, but perhaps you like gilding your most refined gold."

"I have two questions to ask you. You know what they are. To obtain the accurate answers, I am ready to go all lengths. Not a long way. All lengths."

"I believe you," said Helena calmly. "The trouble is you've got as far as you can."

"Let us see. Your brother was a mine of information, as you may believe. Among other things he told me the following curious fact. When a son or a daughter of Yorick is ten years old, a leopard, the badge of Yorick, is tattooed upon their skin. Is— is that true, Lady Helena?"

Helena moistened her lips.

"Yes."

"He said— it may not be true, but he said they were always tattooed beneath the left breast. In your case, I think, an expert was brought from Japan. It was thought, very properly, if I may say so, that so exquisite a canvas deserved a master's brush .... May we see his handiwork, please?"

HELENA sat as though stricken turned into stone.

Pharaoh proceeded mercilessly.

"If you would like assistance, you've only to say the word. We're none of us lady's maids, but Rush has the reputation of being a lady's man."

The sweat was running on my temples. My blood seemed to burn my veins. The compression within me was tumultuous. All my being seemed swollen with a fury that knew no law.

As I tried to measure my distance I found that I could not see, for my eyes had been fixed on Helena and now could not pierce the darkness which veiled the rest of the room.

And then I heard Rush moving ... Had the fellow moved forward that must have been the end of this tale. But he only passed behind me, to stand between me and Dewdrop—I suppose to be nearer his master—the suddenly favoured courtier approaching the steps of the throne.

Helena was trembling. A little hand went up to cover her eyes.

"I'll make you an offer," she said

Her change of tone was piteous. She spoke with an obvious effort, as one whose spirit has been broken, as one that, had had nothing, from whom had been taken away even that which she had.

Other books

Hitler's Last Secretary by Traudl Junge
The Dinosaur Chronicles by Erhardt, Joseph
La Guerra de los Enanos by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Carved in Darkness by Maegan Beaumont
The Templar Legacy by Berry, Steve
Claiming Her Mate by Jess Buffett
The Mystery Horse by Gertrude Chandler Warner