Dead Man's Love Part 28

To my delight I found Uncle Zabdiel rubbing his hands, and evidently pleased to have her there. He went so far as to imprint a cold salute on her cheek, and even to touch her under her soft rounded chin with his bony finger.

"It's a pretty bird you've captured," he said, grimacing at me. "I'll take care of her, never fear."

I thanked him, and then told him of my intention to seek a lodging elsewhere. He seemed surprised, as did Debora. I merely told him that I had business to attend to, and that I could not very well be so far from London for the next few days at least. My real reason was, however, a very different one.

I had made up my mind to pursue this matter of Capper to the very end; the thing fascinated me, and I could not let it alone. So that, after I had seen the dark house swallow up my darling, I went off, designing to find a lodging for myself between that house and the one in which Bardolph Just lived. It was very late, but I was not over particular as to where I slept, and I knew that I could easily find a room.

But I was restless, and had many things to think about; so that it ended finally in my walking that long distance back to the doctor's house, and finding myself, something to my surprise, outside its gates at a little after two o'clock in the morning. All the house was silent, and the windows darkened. I was turning away, when I almost stumbled over someone sitting on the high bank at the side of the road opposite the gate. As I drew back with a muttered apology the man looked up, and I knew him.

It was William Capper. In the very instant of his raising his head I had seen a quick bright look of intelligence come over his face, but now the mask he habitually wore seemed to be drawn down over his features, and he smiled in that vacuous way I had before noted.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"He's turned me out," he said, in the old feeble voice. "I don't know why." I saw his plucking fingers go up to his lips again, as he feebly shook his head.

"Yes, you do," I said sternly. "Come, Capper, you've nothing to fear from me; why don't you speak the truth? You've twice tried to kill the man. What is your reason?"

He shook his head, and smiled at me in the same vacant fas.h.i.+on. "I don't know--I don't understand," he said. "So much that I've forgotten--so much that I can't remember, and never shall remember. Something snapped--here."

He touched his forehead, and shook his head in that forlorn way; and presently sank down on the bank again, and put his head in his hands, and seemed to go to sleep.

When I came away at last, in despair of finding out anything from him, he was sitting in the same att.i.tude, and might have appeared, to any casual observer, as a poor, feeble old creature with a clouded mind. Yet I knew with certainty that something had happened to the man, and that he was alive and alert; I knew, too, that grimly enough, and for some reason unknown to me, he had set out to kill Dr. Bardolph Just. And I knew that he would succeed.

CHAPTER XII.

AN APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH.

It will readily be understood that, by the movements of the various players in the game in which, in a sense, I was merely a p.a.w.n, I had been placed in such a position that I was to an extent no longer master of my own actions. I had been compelled, by the turn of events, to place Debora in the hands of my uncle, and I knew that at any moment now news might come from Green Barn that the girl was gone. I marvelled that that news had not arrived ere this.

Upon that latter point the only conjecture I could arrive at was that the woman Martha Leach had not yet dared to send her news to Bardolph Just, and in that act of cowardice she would probably be supported by Harvey Scoffold. Moreover, I knew that the doctor was too fully occupied with his own fears concerning the man Capper to give much attention to anything else.

Nor, on the other hand, did I feel that I had advanced matters as rapidly as I could have wished. True, I had got Debora out of the hands of the doctor and Harvey Scoffold; true again, I had hidden her in the house of Uncle Zabdiel. But there the matter stood, and I was relying, in a sense, solely on the help of one whom every instinct taught me to distrust: I mean, of course, Zabdiel Blowfield. Moreover, I was no further advanced in regard to any future status on my own account. I had no prospect of making my way in the world, or of doing anything to help the girl I loved. It seemed as though I stood in the midst of a great tangle, twisting this way and that in my efforts to free myself, and getting more hopelessly involved with each movement.

In my doubts and perplexities I turned naturally to Debora; I may be said to have haunted that house wherein she lived. Uncle Zabdiel appeared to be very friendly, and for two days I came and went as I liked, seeing Debora often. And even in that short time I came to see that the deadly old house was having its effect upon the girl, just as it had upon every one that came within its walls; she began to droop, and to wear a frightened look, and not all my rea.s.surances would bring any brightness into her eyes.

"I'm afraid of the place," she whispered the second day, clinging to me.

"That tall boy creeps about like a ghost----"

"And looks like one," I broke in with a laugh. "He's the best fellow in the world, is Andrew Ferkoe; you've nothing to fear from him."

"And Mr. Blowfield: he looks at me so strangely, and is altogether so queer," went on Debora. "Last night he begged me to sit up with him in his study until quite late--kept on asking me if I didn't hear this noise and that, and was I sure that nothing stirred in the shadows in the corner? I felt at last as if I should go mad if I wasn't allowed to scream."

"My darling girl, it won't be very long now before I'm able to take you away," I said, more hopefully than I felt. "My uncle's a good fellow, in his way, but he has lived a lonely life so long that he's not like other men. Have a little more patience, Debora dear; the sun will s.h.i.+ne upon us both before long, and we shall come out of the shadows."

"But there is something else," she said. "I was in my room last night, at the top of the house here, sitting in the dark, thinking. Everything was very silent; it was as if all the world lay asleep. And then I saw a curious thing--something that frightened me."

"What was it?" I asked quickly.

"On the other side of the road facing the house is a long wall," she began in a whisper, "and just outside the gate, as you know, is a lamp-post. From where I sat in my window I could see that the wall was lit up, and across it again and again, while I watched for more than an hour, went two shadows."

"What sort of shadows?" I asked, as lightly as I could; yet I'll own I was startled.

"Shadows of men," she replied. "It was evident that they were walking up and down in the road, watching the house. The shadows were curious, because one was a very big one, walking stiffly, while the other was small, and seemed to creep along behind the first. And I know whose the shadows were--at least, I know one of them."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I know the one man was Dr. Just," she answered me confidently, with a little quick nod.

"My dearest girl, how could you possibly know that?" I asked.

"Because the man walked with an easy stride, and yet his shadow showed only one arm swinging," she said. "Don't you see what I mean? The other arm was fastened to him in some way, held close against him."

I whistled softly, and looked into her eyes. "I see," I said; "that would be the sling. Now, what in the world has brought him here?"

"He's come to find you," said Debora quickly. "He will have heard from Green Barn that I am gone, and that you are gone; he will guess that if he finds you he may find me. The reason for his waiting outside would be that he might intercept you going in or coming out."

"There's something in that," I admitted. "However, of one thing I am certain in my own mind. Uncle Zabdiel won't give you up, nor will he admit the man into the house if he can avoid it. I'm not taking any stand by Uncle Zabdiel's integrity," I added. "I am only certain that he has a wholesome dread of me, and will not offend me. Rest easy; nothing will happen to you, my darling."

Just before my departure I was met by my uncle at the door of his study.

He mysteriously beckoned me in, and closed the door. Then, something to my surprise, he b.u.t.tonholed me, and pulled me further into the room, and stared up into my face with a pathetic expression of entreaty in his eyes.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"My dear boy--my only nephew--I want you to believe that I'm being honest with you as far as I can; I don't want you to judge me hastily,"

he began. "People get such wrong notions in their heads, and you might hear something that would bring you rus.h.i.+ng back here, and would leave me no time for explanation. Will you believe what I'm going to tell you?"

He was fumbling me all over. I saw that he had been troubled by something, and that his dread of me had been strongly revived. I was playing for too great a stake then to make the blunder of being smooth with him. I frowned and folded my arms, and looked down at him sternly.

"Come, out with it!" I said.

"There, now you're beginning to lose your temper before ever I've begun to say a word," he said, backing away from me. "Do be reasonable!"

"I don't know what the word is yet," I answered him. "Let's hear it."

"Well, to put it briefly, that woman Leach has been here." He blurted out the words, and stood looking at me as though wondering how I should take the news.

"Well, what then?" I asked him gravely. "What did you do?"

"Everything you would have wished me to do," he replied quickly. "I told her nothing; I sent her away again."

"Did she enquire about me, or about Debora?" I asked.

"About you first, and then about Debora," he whispered. "But, oh, I put her off the scent. I was sharp with her. I asked what sort of man she took me to be, to admit any minx to my house. And she went away, knowing nothing."

"That's good, and I'm very grateful to you," I a.s.sured him, now feeling that I could give him all my confidence. "They'll leave no stone unturned to get hold of the girl."