The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel Part 25

"And you won't tell me who you are? Something--somehow--seems familiar about you, but I cannot place it. You won't help me?"

He shook his head.

"Better let this night's doings be buried in the Limbo of Forgotten Things, dear lady," he said, his hand resting for a moment upon her shoulder. "And if you know not who the sharer of your--er--adventure may be, surely it is better that way. Good-night and good-bye. You will keep your promise?"

She gave him a sudden inscrutable look from beneath her dark brows.

Then she flung up her head.

"Of course. Thank you for what you have done."

"That is nothing. Good-night."

"Good-night."

Like a shadow she was fleeing up the wide drive, her feet barely making any sound upon it; then, even as she disappeared from view, Cleek turned swiftly to the chauffeur who sat in the front seat of the car, goggles hiding his eyes from view, and clapped him upon the shoulder.

"Well done, Dollops, well done!" he rapped out with a soft laugh. "I thought it was you the minute my peepers rested upon your c.o.c.kney countenance, you little bundle of indefatigability! How did you do it?

You caught my meaning, of course? Deuced keen of you, I must say!"

Dollops grinned, and slipped his goggles into his pocket.

"Yus," he returned, with a vigorous nod. "I caught the signal orl right.

'_Listen_,' you said, didn't you, Guv'nor? So I listens, and then I makes a little plan all on my lonesome. 'The Guv'-nor's up to summink,'

says I ter me, 'an' I'll lay 'e wants me ter tyke a little 'and.' And so I ups and makes fer the road, and there I find the shuvver a-waitin' in this 'ere little snortin' machine."

"He was there, then, was he?"

"Large as life and twice as nat'ril. 'Now, then, me lad,' I says ter me, 'git on the right side o' 'im, an' if yer can't git on the right side, git on the wrong side, s' long as yer gits 'im out of 'is seat.'

But a couple er bob to a Scotsman is as big as a legacy, sir, an' I soon puts 'im strite wiv a message from 'is missis. 'Snoop along an' send a wire ter town,' says I, _Comin' later in the day, wait fer me_, an'

address it ter the Commander-in-Chief of the Generil Post Office, Lunnon.' An' he looks at me an' swallows the gaff like as it were plumduff. I could 'er larfed, sir--strite I could! And I gives 'im the tip ter get a drink, and before I'd finished speakin', 'e'd gorn!"

"Good lad! good lad!" Cleek's laugh was merry if low-pitched. The London address of the telegraph message tickled his sense of humour immensely.

"And what did you do then?"

"Drove dahn the road a little just ter keep me 'and in, and then, when I 'eard you call out ter the lydy, and knew you wuz in danger, sir--why, I slipped in the clutch and come rocketing toward yer as farst as I could."

"Oho! And you were nearer than the lady had arranged, then?"

Dollops drew a long breath before replying; and his voice was solemn.

"That little distance of a quarter of a mile might 'ave done for yer entire--an' I weren't tykin' no risks," he replied heavily. "An' if anyfink was to 'appen to _you_, sir--well, it's me fer the river 'fore you kin wink an eyelash. Dollops ain't a-stayin' 'ere wiv you on the uvver side of the sky, sir, an' don't you myke no mistake abaht _that_.

Where you goes, I goes, too--if it's to 'eaven or 'ell. An' I'm thinkin'

I knows the w'y the ayngels'll tyke _you_."

"Well, they're not taking me yet, dear lad, so don't worry your ginger head about it!" returned Cleek, with a little gulp of emotion for so staunch an adherent as this wisp of c.o.c.kneydom who stood before him.

"But it's friends like you and women like Miss Lorne that keep a man straight and strong and true, and don't let him turn down the wrong path instead of the right. Come, now, there's still more work to be done. Mr.

Narkom will be waiting, and I told him midnight under the big gate. Slip up the driveway and see if you can see him while I go round by Rhea's gate and see how the coast lies."

Dollops disappeared forthwith, and it was but a moment or two later that he returned in company with the Superintendent looking a little round-eyed and scared until he saw Cleek standing in the shadow of the big gate, and going up to him flung an arm about his shoulders.

"You've frightened me into forty fits and out of 'em again," he cried with a little sigh of relief, "for I'd made up my mind that something had happened, and was on the way down here to see if you'd kept your appointment, and if you hadn't--well, every man-jack of 'em at the house would have made an all-night search for you, till we'd found you, Cleek."

"And now that you have, you bundle of fussydom, you see I am still all of a piece and, as Dollops says, as large as life and twice as natural,"

returned Cleek with a smile. "Gad, but there's not much moon about now, is there? And it will be dark work climbing----"

"But you intend to do this mad thing, Cleek?"

"Certainly, my friend. And it's not the maddest I've done this night--by a long chalk. I'll tell you all about it later on, when there's more time and less chance of being overheard. Now, then, step softly, you two. If there's any one there, we don't want to let 'em think an army's approaching. You gave Inspector Petrie the word if we needed him? That I'd ring Rhea's bell in case of immediate help required?"

"Of course. And that one toll would mean one man, and _two_ tolls, three; and three tolls, as many as they could spare from the duty of guarding the house and letting no one go out or in."

"And they've already let almost every inmate of the place roam about at their leisure this night--to prove their trustworthiness!" threw in Cleek, with a short laugh. "A fine lot of disciplinarians up in this part of the world, I must say--though of course the country's difficult, and you want about fifty men up here to one in London. I'll have a word with the Inspector before I leave--with your permission, Mr. Narkom."

"Certainly."

"We'll get along now, Dollops. You stand here under the gate, and keep watch _toward_ the Castle; Mr. Narkom, you stand here, and guard the road-end, and make the usual signal of a night owl's hoot if you see any one approaching. I'll slip on my rubber sand-shoes to grip with, and s.h.i.+n up in a moment."

And suiting the action to the word, that was practically what he did do--though the climb up there in the darkness was certainly more than momentary. For with no light and very little moon it was a more difficult task than Cleek had antic.i.p.ated, and he had to tread carefully to avoid slipping on the narrow shelves of stone and iron that girt it about.

Up, up, up he went, like some dark fly crawling across the face of the night, and to those watching below, their hearts in their mouths at sight of his perilous progress (which at times they could not follow for the pitchy darkness, and knew not if he were safe or not), those moments seemed hours indeed.

But Cleek had been in tighter corners and more difficult places than this in the course of an adventurous lifetime, and the poise and sureness of the man were amazing. Up, and along the stone parapet he went, sliding face toward the stone wall of it, until he could lean back a little and look up at Rhea standing out against the midnight sky like a monstrous splotch of black ink in a lake of indigo-blue. The bronze bell swung beneath him. He knelt cautiously upon one knee, preparatory to whipping out his electric torch, and even as he did so, heard the sound of other footsteps stealing round from the _other_ side and coming toward him with the soft tread of a cat.

Instantly he stopped short--stock-still, as though made out of marble, and leaned back against the parapet while those sliding, soft, creeping, cat-like footsteps came steadily on. He became conscious of a black shape, slim as a woman's, against the midnight sky, that moved with panther-like precision across the face of the parapet. He could actually hear that other person's laboured breaths, and as the Thing steadily approached felt it fan against his cheek.

If Cleek had been in a less precarious position the soul of the man would have relieved itself by laughing outright. For the situation seemed almost funny. But this was no time for humour. The moment he stirred and made himself known, upon that moment the creature--whoever and whatever it was--would pounce upon him, and dash them both down to sure death upon the stones below, and in full sight of the Superintendent's watching eyes. But what to do if he stayed where he was? Detection was certain in any case. There remained only a moment of moments before it actually would come. And in that moment, to be prepared for--what?

The creature came on steadily, picking its way stealthy as a cat across the rugged stone parapet upon which Rhea stood, until it stopped a few inches away from him, face averted, one tense hand clinging to the very stone to which Cleek also clung. Then slowly it turned, knelt upon one knee, reached down a long hand toward the bar from which the great bronze bell swung, made as if to find a foot-hold with one slim black foot, and--Cleek's hand shot out over that other hand, and Cleek's voice whispered in its ear:

"d.a.m.n you! what are you doing here?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: _With a low-pitched exclamation of fury, the man closed with him and fought like some mad thing_]

Instantly all was pandemonium! For the man--for man it was--sprang round quickly, showing the lower half of a white face to Cleek's watching eyes, and then with a low-pitched exclamation of fury closed with him and fought like some mad thing, spitting out furiously and clawing and scratching with his free hand to gain hold of the other.

Cleek realized the danger even as he met it, and knew what it ultimately meant. But the thing had to be done. And in the doing he had wound one foot round a stave of iron which rose up out of the parapet to form the base of Rhea's bronze throne, and so steadied himself for the nonce.

But it was a difficult task indeed to free himself from this clutching, scratching, biting Thing, and it took all his powers of resistance to combat him successfully.

"Stop it--d.a.m.n you!--stop it!" he gave out furiously, in an angry whisper which at least reached Mr. Narkom's ears, and sent the night-owl's hoot creeping eerily out over the silence of that black night to tell Cleek that he would come to the rescue if necessary. And Cleek hooted back. He couldn't do this thing alone--it was too much for him. The s.p.a.ce upon which they wrestled was a mere foot and a half in breadth, and at any moment one or both of them might pitch down into the darkness to certain death.

He peered into the man's fury-ridden face, trying to distinguish the features of it, but the upper half was covered with a black mask through which the eyes gleamed like slits of fire, and the strength of him seemed superhuman, to say the least of it. It was merely a matter of moments now--something would have to be done--when, of a sudden, the man leapt away from him, reached down an arm again, and--lithe as a cat--swung himself down upon the perilously narrow ledge of the great bronze bell. Here was Cleek's chance. In an instant his hand had shot out toward the man's leg and caught it in a vise, while with the other he steadied himself by a firm hold of the wrought-iron stave that had saved him a moment or two before.

The creature spat out his vindictiveness in a string of Italian oaths, and Cleek, paying not the slightest attention to him, merely hung on tighter to the ankle and prayed for help. Another few moments of this strain and--the fight would be lost. His arm muscles were strained to their utmost, his whole body upon the rack. He sent forth the summons of the night-owl again and again, and was rewarded by the sound beneath him of a hasty exclamation from the Superintendent, a muttered "My Gawd!"

from the hoa.r.s.e throat of that little bit of c.o.c.kneydom who had served him and saved him many times before, and then the whispered words, "Comin', Guv'nor--there in a tick!" came with their ring of comfort, and he exerted himself to the last ounce to retain his hold of the biting, clutching furious Thing that lay twisting itself, save for that unfortunate leg in Cleek's grasp, upon the narrow confines of the ledge of Rhea's bell.

.... The moments seemed like hours, and Cleek had all but let go, with a strained wrist and a dislocated finger which was giving him agony, when he saw the dark shape approaching him, and knew that his rescuer had come.

"In the nick of time, lad," he breathed, as he released his hold in favour of Dollops. "G.o.d knows who the beggar is, but he's like a wild-cat. My hand's done in completely. Hold him and, if you can, get him back again upon this ledge. The pair of us will be too much for him, I vow! Then we'll have to hold on and ring the great bell for help. It's the only way. But we must unm.u.f.fle the clapper first. Here--your torch!

Gad! _that's_ what the blighter's doing, is he? Unm.u.f.fling it for himself!... I say, my Dago friend, keep quiet a little, will you?--or you'll find yourself in the next world in the s.p.a.ce of another minute.