The House of a Thousand Candles Part 15

There was food for thought in what he said. He had taken punishment in defense of my property--the crack on his head was undeniable--and I could not abuse him or question his veracity with any grace; not, at least, without time for investigation and study. However, I ventured to ask him one question.

"If you were guessing, shouldn't you think it quite likely that Morgan was the other man?"

He met my gaze squarely.

"I think it wholly possible, Mr. Glenarm."

"And the man who helped you--who in the devil was he?"

"Bless me, I don't know. He disappeared. I'd like mightily to see him again."

"Humph! Now you'd better do something for your head. I'll summon the village doctor if you say so."

"No; thank you, sir. I'll take care of it myself."

"And now we'll keep quiet about this. Don't mention it or discuss it with any one."

"Certainly not, sir."

He rose, and staggered a little, but crossed to the broad mantel-shelf in the great chimney-breast, rested his arm upon it for a moment, pa.s.sed his hand over the dark wood with a sort of caress, then bent his eyes upon the floor littered with books and drawings and papers torn from the cabinets and all splashed with tallow and wax from the candles. The daylight had increased until the havoc wrought by the night's visitors was fully apparent. The marauders had made a sorry mess of the room, and I thought Bates' lip quivered as he saw the wreck.

"It would have been a blow to Mr. Glenarm; the room was his pride--his pride, sir."

He went out toward the kitchen, and I ran up stairs to my own room. I cursed the folly that had led me to leave my window open, for undoubtedly Morgan and his new ally, St. Agatha's gardener, had taken advantage of it to enter the house. Quite likely, too, they had observed my absence, and this would undoubtedly be communicated to Pickering. I threw open my door and started back with an exclamation of amazement.

Standing at my chiffonnier, between two windows, was a man, clad in a bath-gown--my own, I saw with fury--his back to me, the razor at his face, placidly shaving himself.

Without turning he addressed me, quite coolly and casually, as though his being there was the most natural thing in the world.

"Good morning, Mr. Glenarm! Rather damaging evidence, that costume. I suppose it's the custom of the country for gentlemen in evening clothes to go out by the window and return by the door. You might think the other way round preferable."

"Larry!" I shouted.

"Jack!"

"Kick that door shut and lock it," he commanded, in a sharp, severe tone that I remembered well--and just now welcomed--in him.

"How, why and when--?"

"Never mind about me. I'm here--thrown the enemy off for a few days; and you give me lessons in current history first, while I climb into my armor. Pray pardon the informality--"

He seized a broom and began work upon a pair of trousers to which mud and briers clung tenaciously. His coat and hat lay on a chair, they, too, much the worse for rough wear.

There was never any use in refusing to obey Larry's orders, and as he got into his clothes I gave him in as few words as possible the chief incidents that had marked my stay at Glenarm House. He continued dressing with care, helping himself to a s.h.i.+rt and collar from my chiffonnier and choosing with unfailing eye the best tie in my collection. Now and then he asked a question tersely, or, again, he laughed or swore direly in Gaelic. When I had concluded the story of Pickering's visit, and of the conversation I overheard between the executor and Bates in the church porch, Larry wheeled round with the scarf half-tied in his fingers and surveyed me commiseratingly.

"And you didn't rush them both on the spot and have it out?"

"No. I was too much taken aback, for one thing--"

"I dare say you were!"

"And for another I didn't think the time ripe. I'm going to beat that fellow, Larry, but I want him to show his hand fully before we come to a smash-up. I know as much about the house and its secrets as he does, --that's one consolation. Sometimes I don't believe there's a s.h.i.+lling here, and again I'm sure there's a big stake in it. The fact that Pickering is risking so much to find what's supposed to be hidden here is pretty fair evidence that something's buried on the place."

"Possibly, but they're giving you a lively boycott. Now where in the devil have you been?"

"Well--" I began and hesitated. I had not mentioned Marian Devereux and this did not seem the time for confidences of that sort.

He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it.

"Bah, these women! Under the terms of your revered grandfather's will you have thrown away all your rights. It looks to me, as a member of the Irish bar in bad standing, as though you had delivered yourself up to the enemy, so far as the legal situation is concerned. How does it strike you?"

"Of course I've forfeited my rights. But I don't mean that any one shall know it yet a while."

"My lad, don't deceive yourself. Everybody round here will know it before night. You ran off, left your window open invitingly, and two gentlemen who meditated breaking in found that they needn't take the trouble. One came in through your own room, noting, of course, your absence, let in his friend below, and tore up the place regrettably."

"Yes, but how did you get here?--if you don't mind telling."

"It's a short story. That little chap from Scotland Yard, who annoyed me so much in New York and drove me to Mexico--for which may he dwell for ever in fiery torment--has never given up. I shook him off, though, at Indianapolis three days ago. I bought a ticket for Pittsburg with him at my elbow. I suppose he thought the chase was growing tame, and that the farther east he could arrest me the nearer I should be to a British consul and tide-water. I went ahead of him into the station and out to the Pittsburg sleeper. I dropped my bag into my section--if that's what they call it in your atrocious American language--looked out and saw him coming along the platform. Just then the car began to move--they were shunting it about to attach a sleeper that had been brought in from Louisville and my carriage, or whatever you call it, went skimming out of the sheds into a yard where everything seemed to be most noisy and complex. I dropped off in the dark just before they began to haul the carriage back. A long train of empty goods wagons was just pulling out and I threw my bag into a wagon and climbed after it. We kept going for an hour or so until I was thoroughly lost, then I took advantage of a stop at a place that seemed to be the end of terrestrial things, got out and started across country. I expressed my bag to you the other day from a town that rejoiced in the cheering name of Kokomo, just to get rid of it. I walked into Annandale about midnight, found this medieval marvel through the kindness of the station-master and was reconnoitering with my usual caution when I saw a gentleman romantically entering through an open window."

Larry paused to light a fresh cigarette.

"You always did have a way of arriving opportunely. Go on!"

"It pleased my fancy to follow him; and by the time I had studied your diggings here a trifle, things began to happen below. It sounded like a St. Patrick's Day celebration in an Irish village, and I went down at a gallop to see if there was any chance of breaking in. Have you seen the room? Well,"--he gave several turns to his right wrist, as though to test it--"we all had a jolly time there by the fireplace. Another chap had got in somewhere, so there were two of them. Your man--I suppose it's your man--was defending himself gallantly with a large thing of bra.s.s that looked like the pipes of a grand organ--and I sailed in with a chair. My presence seemed to surprise the attacking party, who evidently thought I was you--flattering, I must say, to me!"

"You undoubtedly saved Bates' life and prevented the rifling of the house. And after you had poured water on Bates--he's the servant--you came up here--"

"That's the way of it."

"You're a brick, Larry Donovan. There's only one of you; and now--"

"And now, John Glenarm, we've got to get down to business--or you must. As for me, after a few hours of your enlivening society--"

"You don't go a step until we go together--no, by the beard of the prophet! I've a fight on here and I'm going to win if I die in the struggle, and you've got to stay with me to the end."

"But under the will you dare not take a boarder."

"Of course I dare! That will's as though it had never been as far as I'm concerned. My grandfather never expected me to sit here alone and be murdered. John Marshall Glenarm wasn't a fool exactly!"

"No, but a trifle queer, I should say. I don't have to tell you, old man, that this situation appeals to me. It's my kind of a job. If it weren't that the hounds are at my heels I'd like to stay with you, but you have enough trouble on hands without opening the house to an attack by my enemies."

"Stop talking about it. I don't propose to be deserted by the only friend I have in the world when I'm up to my eyes in trouble. Let's go down and get some coffee."

We found Bates trying to remove the evidences of the night's struggle. He had fastened a cold pack about his head and limped slightly; otherwise he was the same-- silent and inexplicable.

Daylight had not improved the appearance of the room. Several hundred books lay scattered over the floor, and the shelves which had held them were hacked and broken.

"Bates, if you can give us some coffee--? Let the room go for the present."

"Yes, sir."

"And Bates--"

He paused and Larry's keen eyes were bent sharply upon him.

"Mr. Donovan is a friend who will be with me for some time. We'll fix up his room later in the day"

He limped out, Larry's eyes following him.

"What do you think of that fellow?" I asked.

Larry's face wore a puzzled look.

"What do you call him--Bates? He's a plucky fellow."

Larry picked up from the hearth the big candelabrum with which Bates had defended himself. It was badly bent and twisted, and Larry grinned.

"The fellow who went out through the front door probably isn't feeling very well to-day. Your man was swinging this thing like a windmill."

"I can't understand it," I muttered. "I can't, for the life of me, see why he should have given battle to the enemy. They all belong to Pickering, and Bates is the biggest rascal of the bunch."

"Humph! we'll consider that later. And would you mind telling me what kind of a tallow foundry this is? I never saw so many candlesticks in my life. I seem to taste tallow. I had no letters from you, and I supposed you were loafing quietly in a grim farm-house, dying of ennui, and here you are in an establishment that ought to be the imperial residence of an Eskimo chief. Possibly you have crude petroleum for soup and whipped salad-oil for dessert. I declare, a man living here ought to attain a high candle-power of luminosity. It's perfectly immense." He stared and laughed. "And hidden treasure, and night attacks, and young virgins in the middle distance--yes, I'd really like to stay a while."

As we ate breakfast I filled in gaps I had left in my hurried narrative, with relief that I can not describe filling my heart as I leaned again upon the sympathy of an old and trusted friend.

As Bates came and went I marked Larry's scrutiny of the man. I dismissed him as soon as possible that we might talk freely.

"Take it up and down and all around, what do you think of all this?" I asked.

Larry was silent for a moment; he was not given to careless speech in personal matters.

"There's more to it than frightening you off or getting your grandfather's money. It's my guess that there's something in this house that somebody--Pickering supposedly--is very anxious to find."

"Yes; I begin to think so. He could come in here legally if it were merely a matter of searching for lost a.s.sets."

"Yes; and whatever it is it must be well hidden. As I remember, your grandfather died in June. You got a letter calling you home in October."

"It was sent out blindly, with not one chance in a hundred that it would ever reach me."

"To be sure. You were a wanderer on the face of the earth, and there was n.o.body in America to look after your interests. You may be sure that the place was thoroughly ransacked while you were sailing home. I'll wager you the best dinner you ever ate that there's more at stake than your grandfather's money. The situation is inspiring. I grow interested. I'm almost persuaded to linger."

CHAPTER XX.

A TRIPLE ALLIANCE.

Larry refused to share my quarters and chose a room for himself, which Bates fitted, up out of the house stores. I did not know what Bates might surmise about Larry, but he accepted my friend in good part, as a guest who would remain indefinitely. He seemed to interest Larry, whose eyes followed the man inquiringly. When we went into Bates' room on our tour of the house, Larry scanned the books on a little shelf with something more than a casual eye. There were exactly four volumes--Shakespeare's Comedies, The Faerie Queen, Sterne's Sentimental Journey and Yeats' Land of Heart's Desire.

"A queer customer, Larry. n.o.body but my grandfather could ever have discovered him--he found him up in Vermont."

"I suppose his being a bloomin' Yankee naturally accounts for this," remarked Larry, taking from under the pillow of the narrow iron bed a copy of the Dublin Freeman's Journal.

"It is a little odd," I said. "But if you found a Yiddish newspaper or an Egyptian papyrus under his pillow I should not be surprised."

"Nor I," said Larry. "I'll wager that not another shelf in this part of the world contains exactly that collection of books, and nothing else. You will notice that there was once a book-plate in each of these volumes and that it's been scratched out with care."

On a small table were pen and ink and a curious much-worn portfolio.

"He always gets the mail first, doesn't he?" asked Larry.

"Yes, I believe he does."

"I thought so; and I'll swear he never got a letter from Vermont in his life."

When we went down Bates was limping about the library, endeavoring to restore order.

"Bates," I said to him, "you are a very curious person. I have had a thousand and one opinions about you since I came here, and I still don't make you out."

He turned from the shelves, a defaced volume in his hands.

"Yes, sir. It was a good deal that way with your lamented grandfather. He always said I puzzled him."

Larry, safe behind the fellow's back, made no attempt to conceal a smile.

"I want to thank you for your heroic efforts to protect the house last night. You acted n.o.bly, and I must confess, Bates, that I didn't think it was in you. You've got the right stuff in you; I'm only sorry that there are black pages in your record that I can't reconcile with your manly conduct of last night. But we've got to come to an understanding."

"Yes, sir."

"The most outrageous attacks have been made on me since I came here. You know what I mean well enough. Mr. Glenarm never intended that I should sit down in his house and be killed or robbed. He was the gentlest being that ever lived, and I'm going to fight for his memory and to protect his property from the scoundrels who have plotted against me. I hope you follow me."

"Yes, Mr. Glenarm." He was regarding me attentively. His lips quavered, perhaps from weakness, for he certainly looked ill.

"Now I offer you your choice--either to stand loyally by me and my grandfather's house or to join these scoundrels Arthur Pickering has hired to drive me out. I'm not going to bribe you--I don't offer you a cent for standing by me, but I won't have a traitor in the house, and if you don't like me or my terms I want you to go and go now."

He straightened quickly--his eyes lighted and the color crept into his face. I had never before seen him appear so like a human being.

"Mr. Glenarm, you have been hard on me; there have been times when you have been very unjust--"

"Unjust--my G.o.d, what do you expect me to take from you! Haven't I known that you were in league with Pickering? I'm not as dull as I look, and after your interview with Pickering in the chapel porch you can't convince me that you were faithful to my interests at that time."

He started and gazed at me wonderingly. I had had no intention of using the chapel porch interview at this time, but it leaped out of me uncontrollably.