Storm Music (1934) (18 page)

"I'll make you an offer. I nearly made it just now. If you'll go now I'll show you the secret way. Tomorrow night I'll meet you with five thousand pounds in gold. And after that I'll pay you five thousand a year— I promise it— for every year that you let Mr. Spencer live."

It was clear that a child was speaking, a terrified child. Offer, promise, figures were things grotesque. Her suggestion was below comment, of course. But Pharaoh had his foot in the opening quick as a flash.

"That's better," he said. "Much better. You've gone, shall we say, a long way. But it's not far enough I'm sure Mr. Spencer's worth ten thousand a year."

The man was playing with her— playing the fish he had hooked.

Helena's voice was shaking.

"I've no right to give any more. The money's not mine. That's more than I ought to take for my personal use."

It was awful to hear such naiveté issue from Helena's lips. So perhaps Red Riding Hood spoke to the wolf.

"I am not concerned with your right. To insure Mr. Spencer's life will cost you ten thousand down and ten thousand a year."

Her palms clapped fast to her eyes Helena threw back her head.

"All right," she said. 'I'll pay it."

The words seemed torn from her throat.

"One thing more." said Pharaoh

"It will not be convenient to meet you tomorrow night I take the first premium now. Show me that cellar, or strip. I don't care which you do, for I guess you can open it naked as well as clothed."

I THINK a full minute went by before Helena moved but it seemed like hours.

Then very slowly she rose and turned to the right. Dewdrop following her with the beam of the torch. Clear of the bench she stopped. Then her hand went up to a sconce which was clamped to the panelled wall. For a moment it rested there. Then without warning she laid hold of the bracket and pulled it down.

I heard no sound, but a panel below the sconce moved and, when she turned, I saw the shape of a door which was standing ajar. This was low and narrow, some twenty inches wide by some five feet high.

So Helena severed one of the threads by which her life was hanging.

Slowly she returned to the bench and the beam of the torch followed her.

As she took her seat, Pharaoh rapped out an order.

"Put a light on the lady, Bugle."

I think my heart stood still; but fortunately I had a torch and the wit to do as he said.

"Rush and Bugle stand fast: Dewdrop with me."

He crossed to the gaping panel, with Dewdrop directly behind him, lighting his steps.

As he pulled open the door I saw the stonework beyond.

Then the two stepped through the cut and began to go down.

I stood waiting for their footfalls to fade. And I knew then that my moment had come.

Rush was speaking and wagging his dreadful head.

"Sheba's the goods," he murmured. "Look at that mouth. Here, I'm going' to 'ave a close-up. Gimme that — torch."

With all the goodwill in the world I did as the beast desired—because I wanted my two hands free and one of his full.

Between us we bungled the business, and the torch fell down and went out. I let him grope and find it. As he stood up, grunting, I took him fast by the throat and drove my knife deep into his heart.

He made no sound at all, but the two of us fell together, for he went down on his back and I went down upon him because I would not loosen my grip on his throat.

He gave one frightful convulsion, twitched, and lay still. And then I knew he was dead ...

For a second I lay there listening, then I got to my knees and sought for the torch. When I had found it, I switched it on to the bench. This was empty.

So then I turned the beam on to myself.

"Helena," I said, "it's all right. I've done the swine in."

She did not answer, so I got to my feet and threw the beam round the room, expecting to find her. She must be there somewhere, for she would not have sought the cellar and Rush had the key of the door ...

And then all at once I knew where Helena was.

She had fled for the staircase-turret when Rush and I, between us, had dropped the torch. Rush had locked the door of the hall, not the door of the secret room.

I took a step towards this— and stopped in my tracks.

The doorway by which I had entered had disappeared. In its place the unbroken panelling reflected the light of my torch.

As I stood, staring, Pharaoh's words came into my mind, "It's cleverly done, that door; you've got to be curious to find it ... and an expert to find its lock."

HELENA was safe for the moment. So much I saw. (As a matter of fact, she was saved; but at that time I did not know that no one within the room could open the door she had shut). And Rush was dead, and Pharaoh and Dewdrop knew nothing of what had occurred. In the twinkling of an eye my position had been reversed. A moment ago it had been desperate; but now it was very strong. In a word, I had the ball at my feet. When Pharaoh and Dewdrop returned they would walk into my arms. And that one by one, for the cut through which they must pass would only let one through at a time. If I could not make an end of the two, I deserved to be shot.

I began to survey the shambles.

The chamber was spacious, and had been used, I judged, for prisoners of high degree. There were no windows at all and the only air was admitted by a fireplace of chiselled stone. The furniture was handsome, but very stern and might have been that of some abbot, sworn to subdue the flesh. The seats were more stalls than chairs and there was not a cushion between them of any kind. Indeed, the only comfort lay on the floor; and there lay luxury, for the carpet was twice as rich as any I ever trod and, since it was laid upon stone, a horse might have pranced on its pile without being heard.

I stepped to the cut through which Pharaoh and Dewdrop had passed.

As I had supposed, this gave to a winding stair— no doubt of a considerable depth, for though I strained my ears, I could hear nothing at all.

Determined to leave nothing to chance, I proceeded to lay my ambush with infinite care.

Pharaoh must find nothing wrong until too late. To all appearance the room must be as he had left it. The bench, however, could be seen from the head of the winding stair. I must therefore suggest to Pharaoh that his captive had merely moved. This was easy enough. Next to the bench stood the fireplace, which jutted into the room. On the other side of this was a chair with its back to the wall. If my torch were trained upon this, Pharaoh would receive the impression that his captive had changed her seat, for the chair was masked by the fireplace and could not be seen from the cut. The only question was how to support the torch.

For a moment I stood thinking. Then I perceived that, unless I were to flout Reason, this office must devolve upon Rush.

Anyone leaving the stair with a torch in his hand would be almost sure to illumine the opposite side of the room. The corpse must therefore be moved, in any event. And If I could gird it into the semblance of life...

In two or three minutes the grisly business was done, and Rush was seated upright in a high-backed chair, with an arm along one of the chairs and the torch in his hand. His belt and mine and some cord I had found in his pocket had done the trick. His head had proved troublesome, but I took a stick from the grate, buttoned this into his waistcoat and propped it like that.

The effect was hideous, for the corpse was poking its head. But that was beside the point. At the first blush not even the man's own mother would ever have known he was dead.

Here I should say that, before I had set Rush up, I had taken away his pistol and Helena's master key.

Once again I took care to listen at the head of the winding steps— and heard no sound.

To pick my own position was easy enough. I had only to take my stand behind the panel door that belonged to the cut. This was wide enough to conceal me, yet not wide enough to embarrass my falling on.

I decided to use a pistol, for the bullet was swift and sure and at quarters so close I could not possibly miss. For all that, I took the knife, too, and, since I had no belt, I pierced the band of my trousers and made this into a frog. Regarding the two, I preferred Rush's pistol to Barley's, which must have come out of Salzburg and seemed to be cheaply done. But Rush's weapon exactly resembled my own.

And then at last I was ready, with the knife at my hip and a pistol in either hand ...

Looking back, I find it strange that I, who ten days before had never, that I can remember, so much as knocked a man down, should have made these dreadful preparations without a qualm. That I had already done murder troubled me very much less than the loss of my belt. Indeed, my only concern was lest by some improvidence on my part the butchery which I purposed should not be fulfilled. It might be said that I was but making ready to save my life; but I cannot plead that excuse for that consideration never once entered my head. But that was not of valour. I think the plain truth is that I was possessed. What I had witnessed in that chamber had fired within me a furnace of roaring hate. I was going to kill Pharaoh and Dewdrop exactly as I had killed Rush— not because I had set out to do it, not because that was the reason why I was there, but because they had ravished Virtue— broken a lovely spirit by abusing its lovely flesh.

I had to wait full five minutes before I heard a sigh on the winding stair.

With my ear to the crack beside me, I listened with all my might.

The sigh grew into a murmur, and the murmur into that unmistakable sound—the regular scuffing of feet that are mounting a flight of stone steps. The footfalls were hasty. The two were mounting apace.

Why this was I could not imagine. Why should they run? The stars were fighting against them. But for their haste, I should not have heard them so soon.

The rapid, regular shuffle began to grow clear ...

Unless they were moving as one, the shoes of one of the two were rubber soled, for only one set of footfalls came to my ears. In this case—

And there I saw the glow of a torch. Two steps more, and I heard their heavy breathing ...

The stars against them? All the company of heaven had ranged itself on my side. The two would be spent and breathless ...

Dewdrop began to speak before he had entered the room.

"Bugle an' Ruth to go down. Pharaoh that—"

As he stepped through the cut and I fired, I saw my mistake.

Dewdrop would lisp no more, but the deafening roar of my pistol had carried a message to Pharaoh which not even a child could misread.

I could have done myself violence. It was not as if I had not been warned: I had been told as plainly as any fool could have been told that Dewdrop alone was mounting the winding stair. I had only to pocket my pistols and take my knife. Torch in hand, out of breath, my victim could have made no resistance ...

As it was, by using my pistol, I had thrown away the most valuable weapon I had—the element of surprise.

It was true that, had I stabbed Dewdrop, Pharaoh would still have waited in vain for Bugle and Rush. But though he would have been angry and would at last have come up to see for himself the reason for their delay, he would never have dreamed of danger. But now he was warned.

PHARAOH was more than warned. My shot, being fired when it was, had reported the ugly news that Dewdrop was dead. The fact that no one came down would confirm this report. And no one could have killed Dewdrop unless he had first made an end of Bugle and Rush.

The truth was in Pharaoh's hands. He knew as well as did I that someone was in the chamber, waiting to take his life.

As I say, I could have done myself violence. I was here to play the knave, and I was playing the fool.

I am bound to confess that I cannot defend my annoyance at finding that I must fight Pharaoh instead of playing the butcher as I had already done. I can only say that at that time I had no fear for myself; but since I knew very well that the man was as swift and as cunning as I was slow, I was full of apprehension lest he should escape. The bare thought of such an outcome made the sweat start on my brow. Live— after what he had done? Live— to walk out of that room and do it again?

Somebody laughed—a very unpleasant laugh.

I think it was the devil within me— the sheriff that had been sent to fetch Pharaoh's soul.

I pulled myself together, slid my pistols into my pockets, and set about hoisting Dewdrop out of my way.

Now by firing, as I had, upon him, I had cast away the element of surprise; but that was not all the mischief that I had done, for the roar of the heavy pistol had made me completely deaf.

When I had fired in the forest, so savage was the report that four or five minutes went by before my full hearing came back; but here, within four such walls, the shock of the violent explosion had appalled the drums of my ears.

To listen for Pharaoh's coming was, therefore, but waste of time, and, since he might arrive any moment, I made my preparations as swiftly as ever I could.

These were simple— there was not much I could do.

The chair on which Rush was seated slewed to the left, so that the beam of his torch fell full on the cut in the wall. I then took Dewdrop's torch and studied the room, marking the furniture well in case I must move in the dark. Then I slid the torch into my pocket and lay down behind the great table of which I have spoken before.

This was a pedestal table of carved grey oak. Between the two pedestals there was a knee-hole or archway three feet wide by some twenty-six inches high. Looking through this, I directly commanded the cut, while the pedestals offered good cover on either hand.

I ventured to settle myself with the greatest care, for I knew that if I possibly could I must kill my man before he had entered the room: if Pharaoh could contrive to come in, the advantage I presently held would be utterly lost, for, though we should, in a sense be fighting on even terms, Pharaoh was an expert at murder, but I was no more than a resolute amateur.

Since the cut was so narrow, the gauntlet he had to run was extremely strict and, unless my pistol misfired, I did not see how he could do it and save his life. So I lay very still, from force of habit straining my useless ears, with my pistol-hand on the plinth of the pedestal-table and my eyes on the cut that was waiting to frame my dead.

After a little, I found myself thinking how soft the carpet was. . .

I do not know how long I waited but the first intimation I had of Pharaoh's approach was the sudden roar of his pistol as he fired at and shattered the torch.

I fear this tale is a record of bad mistakes, but when I was laying my ambush I made the worst of them all. I have no excuse to offer. I think a child would have seen that he must so place the torch that, while it illumined the cut, it could not itself be seen from the head of the winding stair. Be that as it may, the horrid shock and the darkness took me aback, and when I fired at the cut, I fired an instant too late. Pharaoh's answer came swift as a flash, and his bullet went through my knee-hole, to lodge in the wall beyond.

And then— silence.

We were both of us deafened, of course; and, remembering that, I at least had the sense to move.

An instant later I was standing behind Rush's chair. And then for the first time that night I felt the stab of something I knew to be fear.

I was as good as blindfold, my ears were stopped; four walls hemmed me in, and somewhere within their compass was moving— Death. Pharaoh was trying to find me, stealing this way and that. He had only to brush against me, touch me with the tips of his fingers, and I should be— caught. His deadly swiftness of action would see to that. Any moment this might happen. Any moment the roar of his pistol might make the last sound I should hear. He might be but three feet off— now. In another instant I might feel his breath on my cheek ...