The Solitary Farm Part 41

"They may take the boat," suggested Cyril, "and that is tied up some distance yonder. I believe they will use the boat."

"No;" said Durgo shaking his head; "there is no place where they can row to, as this channel ends in mere swamps. All I can do is to walk here and there, and watch for the finger of the search-light."

"What am I to do?" asked Cyril anxiously; "go with Bella?"

"No you wait in Mrs. Tunk's hut. I daresay she is alone, as I asked her to send her grandson away to his gipsy caravan before I came. I shall walk down with you, while Miss Huxham goes to the Manor-house."

"I would rather go with Bella," objected the young man uneasily.

"I am quite safe," said Bella determinedly, "and if you came, Cyril, there would be no room for us both in that narrow secret pa.s.sage. I shall go by myself. Have no fear for me, dearest."

"One moment," said Durgo, as she was moving away. "Since you think that I may use violence, I may tell you, to quieten your minds, that the police are coming, after all."

"When did you tell the police to come? I thought you said----"

"Yes, yes!" interrupted the negro impatiently. "I know what I said. But I saw Inspector Inglis the other day when I went to Pierside, and informed him of my suspicions. I wired him to-day asking him to be with three or four men on the bank of the boundary channel opposite to Granny Tunks' hut."

"At what time?"

"About eleven, as I don't suppose that the Vands will try and escape until everyone in Marshely is asleep."

"Did you tell Inglis about the jewels?" asked Cyril.

"No, there is no need to tell more than is necessary. Besides, the police might take possession of the jewels, and I want them for Miss Huxham. All Inglis knows is that I suspect the Vands of a double murder, and that they intend to fly. He will come with his constables to arrest them if there is sufficient evidence."

"But I say, Durgo. I wanted you to do as you say, some time ago, and you talked of it not being advisable to bring the police into the matter. It seems that you have done so."

"It is a fact," said Durgo drily. "I didn't wish to tell you all my plans at once, as you and Miss Huxham here seemed to be so certain that I intended blue murder. If you had not been ready to trust me, I should not have changed my mind or have told you about the presence of the police. You look on me as a barbarous black man."

"We look on you as a very good friend," said Bella quickly, for the negro seemed hurt by their suspicions.

"There! there!" said Durgo gruffly, but bowing to the compliment. "Go to the Manor-house, Miss Huxham, and do what you can."

"Good-bye, Cyril," said Bella.

The young man ran after her as she moved up the corn path. "Don't go without a kiss, Bella," he said, catching her in his arms. "G.o.d keep you, my darling, and bring us safely through this dark business!"

"I'm not afraid, now that I know Inspector Inglis and his men will be on the spot," whispered Bella. "Good-bye! and good-bye! and good-bye!" and she kissed him between each word. In a few minutes she was swallowed up in the gloom, which was growing denser every minute.

"There will be a storm," prophesied Durgo, as the two men proceeded side by side to Mrs. Tunks' hut. "Hark!"

Just as he spoke there came a deep, hoa.r.s.e roll of thunder, as though the artillery of heaven was being prepared to bombard the guilty pair in the old Manor-house. Durgo, with the instinct of a wild animal, raised his nose and sniffed. "I smell the rain. Glory! look at the lightning."

A vivid flash of forked lightning zig-zagged across the violent-hued sky, and again came the crash of thunder. Already the wind was rising, and the vast fields of corn were rustling and sighing and bending under its chill breath. "It is going to be a fierce night," said Durgo, dilating his nostrils to breathe the freshness of the air. "Do you remember in Macbeth, Cyril Lister, of the night of Duncan's murder?" and he quoted in his deep voice--

"_--but this sore night, Hath trifled former knowings._"

Cyril looked at the strong black face, which showed clearly in the frequent flashes of lightning. "You are a strange man, Durgo. One would think that you were almost--" he hesitated.

"A white man," finished Durgo coolly. "No, my friend. I am an educated black man, and an ingrained savage." He spoke mockingly, then flung back his military cloak. "Look! Would a man be like this in your sober England?"

Cyril uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, and had every reason to. In the bluish flare of the lightning he saw that Durgo had stripped himself to a loin-cloth, and that his powerful body was glistening with oil. The sole civilised things about him were canvas running-shoes which he wore, and the cloak. "Why have you stripped to the buff?" asked Cyril astonished.

"I may have hard work to catch those two this night," said Durgo, replacing his cloak, which made him look quite respectable, "so I wish to run as easily as possible."

"But there was no need to strip. The police won't be stripped."

"It's my way, and was the way of my fathers before me."

"In Africa, but not in England."

"Pooh!" was all that Durgo answered, and the two trudged along, bowing their heads against the now furiously driving wind. Shortly they came to Mrs. Tunks' hut, and the door was opened by the old woman herself.

"I felt that you were coming, master," she said, nodding. "Enter."

"No," said Durgo, pausing on the threshold of the ill-smelling room. "I have to go back to my post and watch for the coming of the Vands. Mr.

Lister will remain here. Has your grandson gone?"

"No, lovey--I mean master," said Granny coaxingly. "He's ever so much better for the medicine you gave him, and is quite his own self. But I've sent the gel to get a boat to take him to the caravan. They've moved it down the channel to a meadow near the high road. The gel will bring the boat up here in an hour or so, and take Luke back with her; then he'll go on the merry road with her and my sister."

"You should have sent Luke away before," said Durgo frowning, "for he knew all about the murder, and has blackmailed the Vands. Inglis and his constables will be on the opposite bank to this place soon, and they may arrest him. I shan't say more than I can help, but get him away as soon as you can."

"Yes, master; yes, deary; yes, lovey!" croaked the old woman; and Durgo, with a significant glance at her and a nod to Cyril, turned away into the gloom.

"Won't you come in, lovey?" asked Mrs. Tunks coaxingly.

"No," said Cyril, who did not relish the malodorous hut; "I'll stay here and watch for the signal."

"What signal?" demanded the witch wife.

"Never mind. Go in!" commanded Lister, and settled himself under the eaves of the hut to keep guard.

Granny scowled at him as she obeyed. She did not mind cringing to Durgo, who was her master in the black art, but she objected to Cyril ordering her about. Had Granny really possessed the powers she laid claim to she would have blighted his fresh youth on the spot. As it was, she simply muttered a curse on what she regarded as his impertinence, and went indoors.

Cyril lighted his pipe and kept his eyes on the distant ma.s.s of the Manor-house, which was revealed blackly when the lightning flashed.

Across the ocean of grain tore the furious wind, making it rock like an unquiet sea. Flash after flash darted across the livid sky, and every now and then came the sudden boom of the thunder. Hour upon hour pa.s.sed until the watcher almost lost count of time. Within the cottage all was quiet, although at intervals he could hear the querulous voice of Mrs.

Tunks shrilly scolding the Romany girl. Lister began to grow impatient, as he dreaded lest Bella should have fallen into the clutches of the Vands, who would certainly show her no mercy. It was in his mind to leave his post and see for himself what had occurred. Suddenly a long clear beam smote through the darkness of the night, and he sprang to his feet.

"They have left the house," muttered Cyril, thrusting his pipe into his pocket; "what's to be done now?"

The lightning was not quite so frequent, so the vivid beam of the search-light had full and fair play. But as the lightning ceased and the thunder became silent, a deluge of rain descended on the thirsty earth.

On its strong wings the wind brought the rain, and a tropical down-pour almost blotted out the haggard moon, which now showed herself between driving clouds. But through the steady beam of the search-light could be seen the straight arrows of the rain, and the vast corn-fields hissed as the heavy drops descended. Here and there swung the ray of light, evidently looking for the fugitives, but as it did not come to rest, Cyril guessed that Bella had not yet descried the flying couple. But the rain was so incessant, and the wind so strong, that he was angered to think how Bella, on the high alt.i.tude of the quarter deck, was exposed to its fury.

Suddenly, as sometimes happens in furious storms, there came a lull both in the wind and the rain. A perfect silence ensued, and Cyril straining his ears, heard the soft dip of oars. As he peered towards the black gulf of the water-way running past the hut, the ray from the Manor-house became steady, and the finger of light pointed straight to the boundary channel. Cyril heard a wild shriek and ran down to the bank. Coming along the stream he saw a light boat, and in it Mrs. Vand huddled up at the end in her shawl. Vand himself was rowing with great care: but when the beam revealed their doings he lost all caution and rowed with desperation. Again came a drench of rain, almost blotting out the landscape, but the ray of light still picked out the guilty couple, following the course of the boat steadily, like an avenging angel's sword.

"Row, Henry, row hard!" shrieked Mrs. Vand, crouching in the stern of the boat and steering down the narrow channel as best she could, "We'll soon be safe. Row hard, dear! row hard!"

"Stop!" cried Cyril from the bank. "Mrs. Vand, you must wait here until the police come. Stop!"