CHAPTER XXI

THE THORNY PATH

"Dinner _as_ usual, sir?" said the landlord of The Happy Heart, looking

into the parlor where Tony and Robert were playing piquet.

"Please, Mr. Glew," said Tony. "Seven o'clock as usual. Oh, by the way,

have you got such a thing as a lantern?"

"A lantern!" interjected Robert in surprise. "Why, what----" He was

checked by a kick under the table.

"I dare say I can find you one, sir," said the landlord. "We don't need

'em these summer nights, but I'll be bound there's one knocking about

somewhere."

"Thanks. My friend and I are enthusiastic collectors of butterflies and

moths. We mean to try for some of the latter to-night; so, if we are not

in till late, you won't be surprised or imagine burglars."

"Bless you, no, sir!" said Glew, and went out to look for the lantern.

As soon as the door closed Robert began to speak.

"Don't think me censorious, Mr. Wild, if you please; but, really now,

was there any need for that?"

"The lantern? Rather! We may have to----"

"No--not the lantern. The--the perversion----"

"Oh! you mean the lie. Don't apologize, Bangs, old chap! you haven't

offended me in the least. I like people to say what they think.--Well,

the lie.... Yes, I think it was necessary. Conspirators can't stick at

trifles. Besides, it's on _my_ conscience, so there's no need for you to

worry."

"But wouldn't an excuse----"

"Have done equally well? Possibly, though I never save the ha'porth of

tar. And an excuse would have been only a lie in another form--just as

culpable. But don't let's worry over this: I want to tell you of the

plan of campaign."

Robert subsided, content to have recorded a protest, however mild. He

loved adventure; but, being a man trained in meticulous accuracy, he did

not take kindly to deception--verbal deception, at any rate. The path of

an adventurer he had found a trifle thorny, trodden by a man of

conscience, but still he had enjoyed it and hoped to tread it still

further. But he was careful to leave most of the talking to his comrade.

"While you, Bangs," pursued Tony, leaning against the mantelpiece, "have

been living the lotus life and acting slugabed, I have been working

hard. Ever since I got a hint that Brown was in touch with The Quiet

House I have been following him like the proverbial sleuth hound. I have

discovered--at the expense of torn trousers and soaking feet--that he

keeps tryst nightly with that charming bit of womanhood I spoke to

once--and only once, alas! He has a private entry over the wall, having

driven some large nails into the outer side, well off the beaten track.

Up there the gay Lothario climbs--drops into the garden--meets his

divinity, and _voila tout_!"

"What happens?" asked Robert eagerly.

"The usual thing, Bangs. Exchange of kisses and confidences--which I,

alas! can hear but imperfectly."

"But you don't listen!" exclaimed Robert, scandalized. Tony sighed.

"I have to steel myself. In high politics, you know ... but, of course,

I shall never tell."

"Oh!"

The disappointment was obvious, and Tony laughed.

"No, old fellow, love's young dream and so forth must be respected.

Honestly, I've only watched, hoping to get a clew--perhaps some

conversation with the girl when Brown goes home. No good! No earthly

good! Brown sees her safe to the house and then comes back. He stands on

a convenient garden roller and climbs. Then he drops, and off home.

Ditto me, disgusted, envious, lacking information. To-night I mean to

move."

"Yes!"

"We'll lie in wait, Bangs, and have a word with them. A coil of rope and

a sack--those shall be our only tools. While Brown is talking we'll try

to slip the sack over his head and tie him up. I don't think the lady

will scream, for it seems to me that there's a kind of counterplot

afoot--either against Billy, the Turkish government, or Miss Arkwright.

(I still feel sure she is not Miss Arkwright, but a maid of sorts.) Now,

if I'm right in my conjectures she won't be keen on advertising Brown's

presence to her mistress. If I'm wrong and she _does_ scream and help

comes, we must bolt to the wall and clear out at once. If we succeed,

we'll have a talk with her and try to find out something. I'm tired of

waiting in the dark. Now, are you game to help?"

Robert wagged his head nervously.

"Of course, Mr. Wild, I'm as ready for adventure as I ever was. But--but

this is a serious business. It--it might mean prison!"

"It might," agreed Tony; "but I don't think it need if we're smart.

Anyhow, we must be prepared to risk a little for a great adventure. If

we're cute about the sack business I think I can manage the roping part

all right. You would have to hold the lady."

"B-but----"

"She's awfully pretty ..."

"That is no inducement, Mr. Wild. You forget----"

"Come, Bangs, none of your 'perversions!' I don't forget anything. How

many chaps half your age would jump at the chance of capturing a

beautiful anarchist!"

"I am not an old man yet, Mr. Wild," said Robert with some heat. "You

misunderstand me. I love romance and can take an interest--a detached

interest, of course--an appreciative and artistic interest in a pretty

woman. What I am thinking of is the law. But, since you put it like

that, I will come and risk it."

"Good," said Tony, concealing a smile. "Don't let your interest be too

detached, old boy, or she may get away into the house. Grip her firmly

by the wrists."

They spent the rest of the summer evening in maturing their plans and

piquet. Having given his word Mr. Hedderwick scorned to withdraw, though

it was plain that he did not relish the prospect of a night attack.

Tony, in addition to the lantern, procured some rope and a sack from the

landlord. "To put the moths in, Mr. Glew," he said brightly by way of

explanation.

"_To put the morths in!_" repeated Glew in a dazed fashion. "To put the

MORTHS in! TO PUT THE----"

He was still repeating the formula when the adventurous pair set out.

It was a quarter past ten, thirty minutes before the odd-job man was

wont to meet the lady of his heart. They reached The Quiet House in some

ten minutes, and then skirted the wall for a short distance, till Tony

stopped with a whispered "Here we are!" It was in a bridle-path that

they found themselves, about eighty yards from the main road that ran

through Shereling. Tony crouched down behind a convenient clump of

bramble and lighted the lamp.

"I'll light you up the wall," he said softly. "When you get to the top,

hang by your hands and drop quietly down. There's soft grass ten feet

beneath you. As soon as you're up I shall put out the light, for I know

the way by heart now."

With a resentful obedience Robert observed the big nails that had been

driven into the brickwork by the amorous Brown. Heartily wishing himself

at home--or at least in the snug security of The Happy Heart--but loath

to plead his years or cowardice, Mr. Hedderwick put his foot on the

lowest spike, grasped one above his head, and began the ascent. To an

active boy it would have been a trivial feat; to an elderly adventurer

it was full of pain, and in spite of an heroic spirit he was more than

once on the point of climbing down again. Something, however, forbade

the refusal of the adventure: curiosity or shame held him to his word.

The glimmer of Tony's lantern following--nay, leading him ever upward,

shone like a beacon of promise in the dark. The thought spurred him, and

it was not until he had one leg across the top of the wall that he

reflected on a change of simile: the light might rather be a

will-o'-the-wisp luring him to destruction or disgrace. For a moment his

courage failed.

"Mr. Wild!" he whispered despairingly, "I'm----"

The light went out.

"All right?" said the cheering voice of his fellow criminal. "Good. I'm

coming."

He began to follow, rope, sack and lantern coiled over his shoulders.

With a groan of resolution Robert wiped the sweat of fear from his

forehead and dropped lightly to the ground.

Tony joined him a moment later, breathing a little quickly from the

climb. Without a word he walked cautiously forward, Robert close behind,

until they reached a thicket of elder-bushes. Into the heart of this

they crept, making as little noise as possible. Presently, when Tony

judged they were so placed as to be secure from observation, themselves

able to observe, they halted. "May as well sit down," whispered Tony;

"quite likely we shall have to wait a bit." He spread the sack upon the

ground and the two of them established themselves upon it, clasping

their knees.

The night, most luckily, was fine. There was no hint of rain, and little

dew was falling. There was no moon, and the fitful starlight only served

to display the immensity of the darkness, the monstrous tree-shapes

looming threateningly on them, the overwhelming horror of The Quiet

House. Black against the dark background of the sky it reared its bulk

above them, seeming to menace the guilty pair with nightmare terrors,

starting ghoulish fancies, prosaic fears of the police, a child's dread

of the dark and all its goblins. It was so silent, powerful, unknown.

Mr. Hedderwick's flesh crept with a chill that was not climatic, and

instinctively he huddled closer to his companion.

"Can we smoke?" he breathed.

"No. _They_ might see the glow."

"They," of course meant Brown and his accomplice; but, uttered beneath

that lowering sky, those gloomy trees, in the atmosphere of intrigue and

hypothetical bloodshed, the words assumed an awful import to Mr.

Hedderwick. Romance cut with a keener edge across his quivering soul. He

was getting his fill of adventures, and with an unfeigned zeal he now

wished himself safe at Bloomsbury, even at the price of a Caudle's

welcome. To think that he, a middle-aged--no! an _old_ man, with a good

wife--yes! a _good_ wife, though sometimes a little overbearing--a

churchwarden of Saint Frideswide's and all the rest--to think that he

could be so harebrained and ungrateful as to embark on such an

enterprise! It was incredible: he must be dreaming.... No; it was real.

His right foot was in agony: it had gone to sleep.

"Ouch!" he said, stretching it. "What's the time, Mr. Wild?"

"Can't see. Daren't light a match. 'Fraid they're late. Shut up."

Time passed heavily to the unhappy man. A schoolboy, condemned to a

caning, can face the prospect with a decent front if only the punishment

is not deferred. "Cane me, if you must!" he would say, "but get it over

and let's have done with it!" A fair request, provided the culprit be

not a hardened nature whom it is policy to keep in suspense. In such a

case the Third Degree may be justified. But suppose your culprit to be a

sensitive shrinking nature, to whom the waiting is worse torture than

the actual pain itself, is it not a refinement of cruelty to keep him on

the tenter-hooks? Robert Hedderwick was of such, a gentle, kindly,

romantic, imaginative fool. You who scorn his folly might pardon, could

you but enter into half his feelings as he waits amid the elder-bushes.

At eleven o'clock there was promise of incident to cheer their hearts.

From the other side of the house they heard a voice call sharply, "Who

is there?" No answer was returned, but before the echoes died they saw a

dark figure run silently across the lawn and clamber up the wall where

they had made an entrance. Breathlessly they watched, and in another

moment a second figure, carrying some lethal weapon, walked sharply into

the field of vision. The newcomer made a tour of the house and part of

the garden, but did not disturb the anxious watchers in the elders. As

soon as he had disappeared Robert whispered, "What now? Shall we go

after the man who climbed?"

"No," replied Tony, whispering too. "I don't understand this. It's a

different program. Looks as if something is up. Better wait."

His companion sighed, for he had hoped release was at hand. Instead, he

resigned himself to waiting.

An hour crept by with feet of lead. To the amateur plotters it seemed as

if time itself were standing still. Robert thought it must be two

o'clock at least, but Tony's common sense guessed it to be near

midnight. Once the churchwarden ventured to suggest that honor was

satisfied, curiosity likely to be disappointed; why not retire? Tony

refused doggedly:

"I'm going to see it through now if we wait till five o'clock. No more

lost chances!"

Robert groaned and rubbed his leg.

It was half past one when Robert, half asleep, conscious of nothing but

discomfort, felt Tony plucking at his sleeve. He roused himself

irritably, almost forgetful of their errand. Then, in the dim

foreshadowing of dawn, he saw the outline of a man on the top of the

wall. He awoke fully on the instant, clutching his fellow sufferer in

pure fright, staring with wide-open eyes. The man dropped nimbly down

upon the grass and walked noiselessly across the lawn.

They watched him eagerly, feeling that their sufferings were about to be

rewarded, wondering whether they ought to follow or wait. If the first,

they might be discovered; the second, they might lose him. For once in

his life Tony was at a loss. He had reckoned on Brown's arrival, but not

at a different hour, pursuing a new course. What was the best plan?

Fortunately the period of suspense was short. The figure, which had

disappeared for a moment round the corner of the house, came into view

once more. It still moved with surpassing stealth, but now it was

carrying a long unwieldy object in one hand. It was a ladder. Tony

nearly whistled when he saw this ominous contrivance, and Robert

quivered with a satisfying impatience for the coming drama. Were they to

see a new version of _Romeo and Juliet_, or was it merely a vulgar

burglary?

The man paused, surveyed the blank unlighted house, and then reared his

ladder against a window. He climbed rapidly up, but after a brief

inspection descended with equal swiftness. He raised the ladder with no

obvious effort, carried it some little distance along, and placed it at

another window. It was clear that he was correcting a mistake.

"What"--began Robert in a thick whisper, but Tony clapped a hand on his

mouth, fearing lest the faintest sound might betray them. Not that there

was any real danger, for the night-prowler was twenty yards away, the

wind had begun to rise, and the tree branches were sighing loudly enough

to drown a human murmur. But Tony meant to run no risks: he was

determined to see the play through to the end. Not the quiver of an

eyelash must betray them. At all costs, silence.

They saw Brown--for who else could it be?--rear the ladder, then shift

it a little to get a better foundation. He tried it with his hand to

make sure that it was firm. At last, satisfied and resolute, he placed

one foot upon it and began to climb. The watchers held their breath,

unconscious of the drama within a drama about to burst upon them. Robert

was trembling, his mouth still covered by Tony's precautionary hand.

Brown was on the second rung, when the window above was suddenly flung

open. The mysterious Billy leaned out, jug in hand. "Good evening!" he

said distinctly, in pleasant gentlemanly accents that reached the

watchers in the elders: "good evening. Have a drink?"

The wretched Brown was so _bouleverse_ by the unexpected apparition that

he stood fast, gaping wonderfully, upon the second rung. It was lucky

that he had climbed no higher, for the cascade that fell with unerring

aim fairly upon his countenance was the best part of a gallon of water.

Apart from the hydraulic force exerted the wanton suddenness of the

attack must have dashed him to the ground. He fell prone upon the grass,

striving to disburden himself of an unwanted draft, pitiable, a

spluttering ruin of a conspirator.

"_Glwhtt!_" said Robert from behind the hand of Tony. He was nigh to

bursting with suppressed emotion. "_Glwhtt! oh! glwhtt!_"

Tony, too, found it hard to keep himself in hand. Despite his

disappointment at beholding his fair hopes frustrated, it was no easy

task to check the laugh. To see a man, bold, confident, assured of

success, in one moment converted into a sodden and convulsive mass,

weltering upon the lawn--it was catastrophic. If incongruity be the

basis of the comic spirit, it was here with a vengeance.

"With a vengeance." The thought was impelled by the quick hurry of

events. Brown, after gaspy flounderings for half a minute, recovered

himself and stood erect. He shook an Olympian fist in powerless wrath

toward the window, breathed a crimson oath that might have scorched the

stars, and ran blunderingly toward the wall. He made for his point of

entry by a straight path and dashed blindly through the elders. In his

headlong course he trod convincingly on Robert's fingers, but sped on,

heedless of the yelp of pain. "_Ahoo!_" whooped Mr. Hedderwick, leaping

in his agony, unrecking of the consequences. "_Ahoo! Ahoo!_" He was

wringing his hands in an ecstasy of anguish as Lionel came bursting from

the house, a heavy walking-stick in his hand.

"The wall quick!" said Tony, seizing him by the arm. They had a start of

thirty yards: Brown was over the wall and out of sight by this time, and

there was still hope of escape. Had Tony been alone he would have got

away, for they reached the wall well ahead of the frantic Lionel, aflame

for blood. But chivalry forced him to let Robert climb first. "Up you

go!" he said, thrusting the adventurous churchwarden upon the roller.

There were no spikes to help or hinder on the inner wall. Robert caught

hold of the top bricks and scrabbled piteously with his toes, searching

for a foothold. Tony shoved fiercely from beneath, the thought of prison

or the bowstring beating in his brain. With a heave of which he scarce

thought himself capable he boosted Robert high in the air. Mr.

Hedderwick flew up like a ball of india-rubber, rolled on to the top,

and fell over the other side with a wail of apprehension. Luckily the

mud was soft. But just as he touched the mud, Lionel came up with his

quarry and seized him by the collar. Tony turned and struggled like a

wildcat, but he was no match for the other. Lionel shortened his stick

and drove it upward. With a grunt of pain Tony collapsed. "Whew!" said

Lionel, vastly pleased as he contemplated the fallen foe. "There's one

of 'em, anyhow. I hope I haven't killed the brute."