Starvecrow Farm Part 55

The boy's faculties were still benumbed by the hards.h.i.+ps which he had undergone; perhaps a little by the narcotic he had taken. And though he had seen Henrietta at least a dozen times in the old life, he could not remember her. Nevertheless she contrived to satisfy him that she was a friend, that she meant him well, that she would protect him. And little by little, in spite of the surroundings which drew the child's eyes again and again in terror to the dimly-lit vaulting, on which the shadow of the girl's figure bulked large, his alarm subsided. His heart beat less painfully, and his eyes lost in a degree the strained and pitiful look which had become habitual. But his little limbs still started if the light flickered, or the oil sputtered; and it was long before, partly by gentle suasion, partly by caresses, she succeeded in inducing the child--nauseated as he was by the drug--to take food.

That done, though she still believed him to be in a critical state, and dreadfully weak, she was better satisfied. And soon, soothed by her firm embrace and confident words, her charge fell into a troubled sleep.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

THE SEARCH

To return to Bishop. Thrown off the trail in the wood, he pushed along the road as far as Windermere village. There, however, he could hear nothing. No one of Henrietta's figure and appearance had been seen there. And in the worst of humours, with the world as well as with himself, he put about and returned to the inn. If the girl had come back during his absence, it was bad enough; he had had his trouble for nothing, and might have spared his shoe-leather. Hang such pretty frailties for him! But if, on the other hand, she had not come back, the case was worse. He had been left to watch her, and the blame would fall on him. Nadin would say more than he had said already about London officers and their uselessness. And if anything happened to her! Bishop wiped his brow as he thought of that, and of his next meeting with Captain Clyne. It was to be hoped, be devoutly hoped, that nothing had happened to the jade.

It wanted half an hour of sunset, when he arrived, f.a.gged and fuming, at the inn; and if his worst fears were not realised, he soon had ground to dread that they might be. Miss Damer had not returned.

"I've no truck with them rubbishy radicals," Mrs. Gilson added impersonally, scratching her nose with the handle of a spoon--a sign that she was ill at ease. "But they're right enough in one thing, and that is, that there's a lot of useless folk paid by the country--that'd never get paid by any one else! And for brains, give me a calf's head!"

Bishop evaded the conflict with what dignity he might.

"The Captain's not come in?" he asked.

"Yes, he's come in," the landlady answered.

"Well," sullenly, "the sooner I see him the better, then!"

"You can't see him now," Mrs. Gilson replied, with a glance at the clock. "He's sleeping."

Bishop stared.

"Sleeping?" he cried. "And the young lady not come back?"

"He don't know that she has so much as gone out," Mrs. Gilson answered with the utmost coolness. "And what's more, I'm not going to tell him.

He came in looking not fit to cross a room, my man, let alone cross a horse! And when I went to take him a dish of tea I found him asleep in his chair. And you may take it from me, if he's not left to have out his sleep, now it's come, he'll be no more use to you, six hours from this, than a corpse!"

"Still, ma'am," Bishop objected, "the Captain won't be best pleased----"

"Please a flatiron!" Mrs. Gilson retorted. "Best served's best pleased, my lad, and that you'll learn some day." And then suddenly taking the offensive, "For the matter of that, what do you want with him?" she continued. "Ain't you grown men? If Joe Nadin and you and half a dozen redb.r.e.a.s.t.s can't find one silly girl in an open countryside, don't talk to me of your gangs! And your felonies! And the fine things you do in London!"

"But in London----"

"Ay, London Bridge was made for fools to go under!" Mrs. Gilson answered, with meaning. "It don't stand for nothing."

Bishop tapped his top-boot gloomily.

"She may come in any minute," he said. "There's that."

"She may, or she mayn't," Mrs. Gilson answered, with another look at the clock.

"She's not been gone more than an hour and a half."

"Nor the mouse my cat caught this afternoon," the landlady retorted.

"But you'll not find it easily, my lad, nor know it when you find it."

He had no reply to make to that, but he carried his eye again to the clock. He was very uncomfortable--very uncomfortable. And yet he hardly knew what to do or where to look. In the meantime the girl's disappearance was becoming known, and caused, indoors and out, a thrill of excitement. Another abduction, another disappearance! And at their doors, on their thresholds, under their noses! Some heard the report with indignation, and two in the house heard it with remorse; many with pity. But in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of most the feeling was not wholly painful. The new mystery revived and doubled the old; and blew to a white heat the embers of interest which were beginning to grow cold.

In the teeth of the nipping air--and sunset is often the coldest hour of the twenty-four--groups gathered in the yard and before the house.

And while a man here and there winked at his neighbour and hinted that the young madam had slunk back to the lover from whom she had been parted, the common view was that mischief was afoot and something strong should be done.

Meanwhile uncertainty--and in a small degree the absence of Captain Clyne and Nadin--paralysed action. At five, Bishop sent out three or four of his dependants; one to watch the boat-landing, one to keep an eye on the entrance to Troutbeck village, and others to bid the constables at Ambleside and Bowness be on the watch. But as long as the young lady's return seemed possible--and some still thought the whole a storm in a tea-cup--men not unnaturally shrank from taking the lead. Nor until the man who took all the blame to himself interposed, was any real step taken.

It was nearly six when Bishop, talking with his friends in the pa.s.sage, found himself confronted by the chaplain. Mr. Sutton was in a state of great and evident agitation. There were red spots on his cheek-bones, his pinched features were bedewed with perspiration, his eyes were bright. And he who usually shunned encounter with coa.r.s.er wits, now singled out the officer in the midst of his fellows.

"Are you going to do nothing," he cried, "except drink?"

Bishop stared.

"See here, Mr. Sutton," he said, slowly and with dignity, "you must not forget----"

"Except drink?" the chaplain repeated, without compromise. And taking Bishop's gla.s.s, which stood half-filled on the window-seat beside him, he flung its contents through the doorway. "Do your duty, sir!" he continued firmly. "Do your duty! You were here to see that the lady did not leave the house alone. And you permitted her to go."

"And what part," Bishop answered, with a sneer, "did your reverence play, if you please?" He was a sober man for those times, and the taunt was not a fair one.

"A poor part," the chaplain answered. "A mean one! But now--I ask only to act. Say what I shall do, and if it be only by my example I may effect something."

"Ay, you may!" Bishop returned. "And I'll find your reverence work fast enough. Do you go and tell Captain Clyne the lady's gone. It's a task I've no stomach for myself," with a grin; "and your reverence is the very man for it."

Mr. Sutton winced.

"I will do even that," he said, "if you will no longer lose time."

"But she may return any minute."

"She will not!" Mr. Sutton retorted, with anger. "She will not! G.o.d forgive us for letting her go! If I failed in my duty, sir, do you do yours! Do you do yours!"

And such power does enthusiasm give a man, that he who these many days had seemed to the inn a poor, timid creature, slinking in and out as privately as possible, now shamed all and kindled all.

"By jingo, I will, your reverence!" Bishop cried, catching the flame.

"I will!" he repeated heartily. And he turned about and began to give orders with energy.

Fortunately Nadin arrived at that moment; and with his burly form and broad Lancas.h.i.+re accent, he seemed to bring with him the vigour of ten. In three minutes he apprehended the facts, pooh-poohed the notion that the girl would return, and with a good round oath "dommed them Jacobins," to give his accent for once, "for the graidliest roogs and the roofest devils i' all Lancas.h.i.+re--and that's saying mooch! But we mun ha' them hanged now," he continued, striding to and fro in his long, rough horseman's coat. "We mun ha' them hanged! We'll larn them!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: In ten minutes the road twinkled with lights ...]

He formed parties and a.s.signed roads and brought all into order. The first necessity was to visit every house within a mile of the inn on the Windermere side; and this was taken in hand at once. In ten minutes the road twinkled with lights, and the frosty ground rang under the tread of ironshod boots. It was ascertained that no boat had crossed the lake that afternoon; and this so far narrowed the area to be searched, that the men were in a high state of excitement, and those who carried firearms looked closely to their priming.

"'Tis a pity it's neet!" said Nadin. "But we mun ha' them, we mun ha'

them, afoor long!"

Meanwhile, Mr. Sutton had braced himself to the task which he had undertaken. Challenged by Bishop, he had been anxious to go at once to Clyne's room and tell him; that the Captain might go with the searchers if he pleased. But he had not mounted three steps before Mrs. Gilson was at his heels, bidding him, in her most peremptory manner, to "let his honour be for another hour. What can he do?" she urged. "He's but one more, and now the lads are roused, they'll do all he can do! Let him be, let him be, man," she continued. "Or if you must, watch him till he wakes, and then tell him."