Chapter X: I Hear of Robbers

MRS. McNAB kept to the Tower rooms all next day. Julia brought me a message early in the morning.

“She put her head out at me when I did be sweepin’ the landin’ outside her door. ‘Let you be tellin’ Miss Earle I’d like to see her up here,’ says she: ‘an’ I’ll be takin’ all me meals here to-day,’ she says. ‘The work is troublin’ me,’ she says. An’ I’d say from the look she had on her that something was afflictin’ her. Yerra, there’s a powerful lot of misery over writin’ books. I never did read a book if I could help it, but if ever I’m druv to it I’ll be pityin’ the poor soul that wrote it all the time. It’s a poor trade for the spirits.”

As soon as I was dressed I ran up the narrow stairway and tapped at the door. Mrs. McNab opened it immediately. She was very pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“I have not slept much,” she said, in answer to my inquiries. Evidently she had not climbed the steep steps to her bedroom, for there were tumbled rugs and cushions on the big couch; but she was fully dressed, and her iron-grey shingled hair was as neat as usual. “I think it would be as well if I did not go down-stairs to-day.” But she laughed at my suggestion to call in the Wootong doctor.

“Oh no: my hand is really not bad. I suppose I must be feeling a certain amount of shock, that is all. I will spend a lazy day. You can manage without me, can you not?”

I begged her not to worry on that score, and proceeded to dress her hand. The burns were nothing to be anxious about: there was no sign of inflammation, and she possessed the clean, healthy skin that heals rapidly. She was mildly proud of it as I adjusted the bandages.

“I always heal quickly—no cut or burn ever troubles me for long,” she remarked. “Indeed, I rarely have to bandage a trifling hurt: but one has to be careful with a blister. Perhaps you will not mind coming up after luncheon and dinner to renew the dressings. Judith is quite well this morning, I hope?”

“Quite—judging by the rate at which I saw her tearing over the paddock to bathe, half an hour ago,” I said, laughing. “And she and Jack have promised me that there will be no more unlawful excursions at night. We have made a solemn alliance!”

“I am indeed relieved to hear it.” She looked at me with something like warmth. “You manage them very well, my dear: they recognize something in you that they can trust. There has been mutual abhorrence between them and their other governesses. I had begun to despair of them—every one has regarded them as outlaws.”

“There is nothing much wrong with Judy and Jack beyond high spirits,” I defended. “And I think there is a good deal in what you said last night about ‘a dog with a bad name’; they knew they were expected to be outlaws, and they simply lived up to what was expected of them. But they never do mean things, and I think that is all that really matters.”

“I am glad you say that,” Mrs. McNab said. “You are young enough to understand them—and yet I was very much afraid of your youth when you first came. But I have become thankful for it. You are a great comfort to me, my dear!” Which so amazed me, coming from the lips of my dour employer, that I got out of the room with all speed—to behold from my window my “misunderstood” outlaws vigorously watering Mr. Atherton with the garden hose—their victim having imprudently assailed them with chaff from a somewhat helpless position in an apricot tree. By the time he reached the ground he was so drenched that the only thing undamped in him was his ardour for vengeance. Judy and Jack, however, fled in time, and as the breakfast-gong boomed out at the moment, Mr. Atherton had to beat a retreat to change his clothes. Nothing could have been more lamb-like than my charges when I met them at the table. I decided that the occurrence was one which I might profitably be supposed not to have seen.

Nobody seemed to mind the non-appearance of the hostess, and the day passed uneventfully. Too much fire the night before appeared to have bred in Judy and Jack a burning desire for water; they spent most of the day in the sea, and I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Atherton duck them both with a scientific thoroughness that seemed to repay him in part for what he had suffered before breakfast. In the evening they behaved with unwonted decorum—it drew anxious inquiries for their health from several of the party, notably from the girl who had found a frog in her bed. She announced her intention of making a very thorough search before retiring, remarking gloomily that when the children acted like infant cherubs a five-foot goanna under her sheet might well be expected. At which Judy and Jack smiled dreamily. They went to bed early, and when I tucked them up they were sleeping soundly, looking more innocent than any lambs.

Mrs. McNab came down after breakfast next morning, evidently rested. She made light of her bandaged hand, satisfying such inquiries as were made with a vague remark about the careless use of matches. It was a busy morning for me, for an all-day picnic was planned, and the preparations had to be rushed. Just as I came out with the last basket of provisions a motor came up the drive, and Dr. Firth got out. He greeted every one cheerfully, declining the invitations that were showered upon him to go to the picnic: he was too busy, he said, and certainly too old—which produced a storm of protest. Certainly he did not look old, as he gave back chaff for chaff. Not until the last car had driven away, loaded, did he look grave. Then the face he turned to Mrs. McNab and me was serious enough.

“I came with rather unpleasant news,” he said. “There didn’t seem any need to worry all those light-hearted young people with it, but I felt I must let you know. My place was pretty successfully burgled last night!”

Mrs. McNab went white to the lips.

“Dr. Firth!” she breathed. “Have you—did you lose much?”

“More than I care about. The thieves were discriminating: they didn’t bother about anything bulky. They must have known a good deal about the place. All the unset jewels have gone, and most of the smaller and more valuable ornaments—some very valuable as rare specimens. I wish I had done six months ago what I intended to do next week—sent the lot to a museum. You were right in your warnings after all, Mrs. McNab.” He smiled grimly.

“And you heard nothing?”

“Not a thing. I was writing until very late, and when I turned in I slept like a top. My housekeeper is a light sleeper, but she heard nothing. I am almost inclined to think that there was only one burglar. The police believe more than one had a hand in it. But I think that if a gang had been at work more would have been taken; to me, the small bulk of what has gone points to a man working single-handed. And I wouldn’t be surprised if both thief and booty are in the neighbourhood yet.”

If Mrs. McNab had been pale before, she was ghastly now.

“Why—why do you think so?”

“Because every one takes it for granted that he would get away. The Wootong police—not that they’re especially intelligent—are quite certain on the point: they have been keeping the telegraph-wires busy with messages to Melbourne. I wish they’d show more anxiety to hunt the neighbourhood. How easy it would be for a man to hide his plunder somewhere in the bush and remain quietly here until the hue and cry died away! In the cities the detectives have a fair working knowledge of likely criminals. But a man could stay in the country, perhaps as a farm-labourer, without suspicion ever being drawn to him.”

Judy and Jack had been listening open-mouthed. Now Judy burst forth.

“I say, I’ve a gorgeous idea! You and I’ll be detectives, Jack, and we’ll hunt round everywhere! We’ll find out if there are any strangers about, and do some scouting. I’m jolly glad they wouldn’t take us for their beastly old picnic, aren’t you?”

“Rather!” said Jack. “Let’s go and hunt through the tea-tree near Dr. Firth’s!”

“Not if I know it!” said the doctor hastily. “You keep well out of the way, young people: there may be tracks, and I don’t want them confused. I mean to get the black trackers down, Mrs. McNab: they may get on the trail, especially if my theory is correct.”

“The black trackers!” ejaculated Mrs. McNab faintly. “Do you really think——?” She paused, looking at him anxiously.

“There’s no harm in trying. Those black fellows are wonderfully quick at picking up a track. And I must say, I should like to put up a fight to get poor old Michael’s things back. They’re precious little good to me, but he valued them. Besides, if the thief or thieves should be in the neighbourhood, my house may not be the last to be robbed. He’s visited the hotel and the poor little Parker ladies already: this may seem to him a good district to work in.”

“I—wonder,” said Mrs. McNab. “Oh, I should think he would have got away. He would not dare to stay.”

“It might be less risky to stay than to go—knowing that every detective in the cities was on the watch for him. Of course, my theory may be all wrong, but I mean to take precautions. And I want you to be on your guard.”

“My Aunt!” said Judy. “We may be burgled next, Jack. What a lark!”

“Don’t be foolish, Judith!” said her mother sharply. “This is a matter far too serious for silly joking. Not that I really feel afraid, Dr. Firth. There is not much here that could be easily carried away, and I never keep much money in the house.”

“No; but the thief might not know that. The enterprising gentleman who knew all about the Parkers’ little hoard might well expect pickings in The Towers. I don’t want to make you nervous, but it would be foolish not to be on the watch.”

For all her attempt at unconcern, Mrs. McNab looked distinctly nervous, though she again expressed the belief that the burglars had got well away with their plunder, and threw cold water on the doctor’s scheme of procuring the black trackers. I wondered at the haggard lines into which her face set as she watched him drive away—he refused her invitation to remain to lunch, remarking that all the Wootong police force were sure to be waiting on his doormat, eager for him to sign more documents. “I don’t know how many I’ve signed already,” he said, laughing. “It’s a terrible thing to come into close quarters with the law!”

We lunched rather soberly: the children were repressed by their mother’s grim face, and ate as quickly as possible, so that they might escape from the table. Mrs. McNab seemed lost in thought; she let her cutlet go away almost untasted, sitting with her fingers keeping a soft drumming on the tablecloth, and her brow knitted. I wondered whether the burglar-scare were troubling her, or if it were merely the perennial worry of her work: and wished I could escape as quickly as Judy and Jack, whose gay young voices could be heard in the shrubbery long before their mother rose from the table. She walked to the window and stood looking out for a moment. Then she turned to me.

“I hope you are not alarmed by this burglary,” she said. “I really do not think we are likely to have trouble here.”

“Then you shouldn’t look as if you did,” I thought; but prudently forbore to put my thought into words. Aloud, I said I didn’t think I was likely to be nervous. Then I wondered was I right to keep silent about the movements I had heard.

“I think I ought to tell you that I have noticed unusual sounds several times at night,” I began. I got no further, for my employer took a quick step forward, her face changing.

“What is that? _What_ did you hear?”

“There have been rustlings and movements in the shrubbery below my window,” I said. “Quite a number of times; and more than once I have heard steps on the gravel, sounding as though some one were trying to walk as noiselessly as possible.”

She drew a long breath.

“Did you see anything?”

“Yes—just glimpses of a dark figure. But with so many in the house it seemed foolish to worry: anyone might have gone there for a stroll. I did feel as if some one were prowling for no good; but then, I know one is apt to fancy things, especially at night. Still, I thought I ought to tell you.”

Mrs. McNab looked relieved.

“You are quite level-headed,” she said approvingly. “And I am sure there was nothing to cause alarm: as a matter of fact, I very frequently stroll out at night myself, and I naturally try not to disturb anyone. A little turn in the night-air clears my head when I am at work. So, quite possibly I myself was your prowler.”

“Yes, I thought of that,” I answered. “Of course, there was the night I met you on the back stairs I was sure I had trapped a burglar that time!”

For a moment she stared at me with a look that seemed to lack comprehension. Then she smiled nervously.

“Oh yes—yes,” she murmured. “Quite so. Well, I think we may agree that Dr. Firth’s burglar has not paid us a visit yet. Personally, I do not think he will ever do so.” She spoke hurriedly, almost incoherently. “And I hope you will not worry, or keep any watch at night. We have plenty of defenders, if anyone should break in. My son and his friends would welcome the chance of dealing with a burglar—yes, think it great fun!” The laugh with which she ended was a queer, forced cackle. Then she turned on her heel abruptly, and hurried out of the room.

I went in search of Judy and Jack, and, seeing them safely ensconced in the highest branches of a pine-tree, sat down on a garden-seat and gave myself up to thought. For the first time, doubts as to my employer’s mental balance assailed my mind. Undoubtedly, she was queer; that I had known always, but never had she been quite so queer as in those few minutes after lunch. Was she really afraid of thieves? Perhaps, unknown to anyone, she had a secret hoard of money or jewels in the Tower rooms that she guarded so jealously: but in that case it did not seem likely that she would feel so sure that no thief would come. She would welcome Dr. Firth’s black trackers, instead of trying to persuade him not to employ them.

And yet—I did not believe that any mere danger of loss would make Mrs. McNab look as she had looked; afraid, almost hunted. She was the mistress of The Towers, secure, guarded, wealthy: no outside risk could touch her. The more I thought, the more the conviction grew upon me that her mind was unbalanced. There had been something hardly sane in her nervous distress, her incoherence. And most of all I puzzled over her blank look when I had spoken of our midnight meeting on the night when she had brushed rudely by me. For, despite her quick effort to cover it, I was very sure that Mrs. McNab had not the slightest recollection of having met me on the kitchen stairs.