Chapter XIV: I Find Myself a Conspirator

HARRY McNAB and two of his ’Varsity friends took a car and went off to Dr. Firth’s immediately after breakfast next morning. They returned some hours later, much disgruntled.

“We thought you would be black-tracking all day,” the girls greeted them. “Have you caught the burglars already?”

“There’ll be mighty little catching done, if you ask me,” was Harry’s reply. “The black trackers can’t come: they’re busy on that murder case up in the Mallee, and can’t be spared for a mere robbery. Dr. Firth’s very disgusted. Of course the police are bobbing about everywhere, but I don’t believe they’ll do any good. There are two Melbourne men down as well—detectives.”

“Very disappointing people,” put in Dicky Atherton. “Not a bit like sleuth-hounds in appearance. I expected to see something of the keen, strong, silent type, like Sherlock Holmes, but they’re more like retired undertakers.”

“And is there no clue to the burglars?” Mrs. McNab asked. I had seen the flash of utter relief in her eyes when she heard that the black trackers were not to come. She was looking better, but was evidently very tired.

“Not an earthly clue! The jewels and the burglars seem to have vanished into thin air.”

“You can be jolly certain that they vanished into a high-powered car,” remarked Mr. Atherton. “Burglars, as careful in their choice of valuables as these people were, don’t do things in a haphazard way: I’ll bet the whole thing was the work of an experienced gang, and that they were all snug in Melbourne, with their loot, before daylight yesterday. Well, it’s a good thing that his loss doesn’t trouble Dr. Firth as far as his pocket goes. But he’s awfully annoyed at being bested—not that he admits that he’s beaten yet, by a long way.”

“No,” said Harry. “I fancy that Dr. Firth will keep his teeth into the matter for quite a while. And it wouldn’t be jam for the thief if he caught him. As Dicky says, it’s the old chap’s pride that seems most deeply hurt.”

So we gathered from Dr. Firth himself when he came over, later in the day.

“The things were going to the Museum, in any case,” he remarked. “So far as that goes, I am no worse off. But it is intensely annoying that, for the sake of a handful of jewels, poor old Michael’s treasures are deprived of all their value as specimens. He was tremendously proud of them, and I feel as though I had failed in my trust as their custodian.” He gave a little dry laugh. “I believe I feel it more because I really didn’t care a hang for the things—a good horse or a good dog appeals to me far more than all Michael’s hideous rarities.”

“And what about the things that are left?” Mrs. McNab asked.

“I take no more chances. A man from the Museum is coming down to-morrow to oversee the packing of everything, and in a few days I hope the whole lot will be gone—I shall send them all down to Melbourne by motor-van, with the Museum man mounting guard over them.”

“No need for that,” put in Judy. “All you have to do is to put in a lion or so, and drape a few pythons round the van! Nobody will go near them then!”

“Wouldn’t they look gorgeous, going through Melbourne like that!” Jack exclaimed.

“They would create a mild sensation in Collins Street,” Dr. Firth agreed. “I’ll suggest it to the Museum official. Meanwhile, I have two detectives about the house, both looking very wise and filling little black notebooks with remarks on the situation. Do you know, I have the queerest certainty that those jewels are not far off? The detectives scoff at the notion, but it remains, all the same.”

“You have nothing to support the idea?” Mrs. McNab asked.

“Nothing whatever—it’s just a feeling. I suppose Michael would say that his queer old jewels have a certain uncanny power of suggesting their whereabouts!”

“What’s that mean?” queried Jack.

“Means they’re magic, silly, so’s they can tell you where they are,” responded Judy.

“Hur!” said Jack. “Be a jolly sight better, then, if they said it straight out! Wouldn’t the thieves get a shock if the jewels took to yelling ‘Here I am!’ whenever they tried to hide them!”

“It would be a great advantage to me,” Dr. Firth said, laughing. “You two might keep your ears well open, in your joyous wanderings—they say that magic still lingers where there are children. An old fogy like myself would have no chance of hearing my lost property bleat.”

“Is there a reward?” demanded the practical Jack.

“There is—I’ve offered £500, already, for the conviction of the thief. If you get the jewels without the robber the reward will be less, so you might as well make a thorough job of it.”

“I could do with £500,” said Jack solemnly. “I awfully want a yacht all of my own!”

“You’re a nasty little grab-all,” stated his sister. “People don’t take rewards from friends, do they, Mother?”

“Certainly not.”

“Oh well, the fun of getting them would be worth it,” said Jack, though with some regret. “But you know jolly well you’d like that yacht yourself, Ju. Anyhow, I vote we start hunting now. May we, Mother?”

“I suppose so,” she said—“if you don’t go into very wild places. No, you are not to go, Miss Earle.” She put a restraining hand on mine as I made a movement to rise. “They cannot get into much harm, and you know that you did not sleep well. Be home in good time, children.”

“Right-oh!—we’ll go and get the ponies, Jack!” They raced off together.

Dr. Firth looked keenly at us both.

“I must say that neither of you look as fresh as you might,” he observed. “I suppose you have been worrying over this wretched robbery. You did not sit up on guard, did you?”

“Oh no!” Mrs. McNab replied hastily. “Harry suggested doing so, but it seemed foolish and he gave up the idea. I am really not at all alarmed about The Towers—we are such a large party, with several active young men: a thief would meet with a warm reception here.”

“I think so, too. Still, if you should feel in the least nervous I would send one of my men over here at night.”

This well-meant suggestion caused us both acute anxiety. The very last thing we desired was a guardian for The Towers at night. Mrs. McNab was so emphatic in declining the proposal that Dr. Firth looked at her curiously.

“Well—just as you please. But if you are not worried, I should like to see you looking rather more like yourself. Is the work going badly?”

Poor Mrs. McNab leaped at the suggestion.

“Very badly,” she said, with a wintry smile. “There are so many interruptions—so much to think of throughout the day. I never can expect really free time during the holidays; although Miss Earle does everything in her power to spare me, and never spares herself.” She patted my hand. “I do not know how much magic is in your jewels, Dr. Firth, but my good fairy was certainly at work when she sent me this kind girl.”

Dr. Firth beamed on us.

“I’m delighted to hear you say so,” he said. “One would not expect anything but kindness from Denis Earle’s daughter. My luck was even better than yours, for you have her only for the holidays: I am not going to lose her again, if I can help it!”

“I should be very sorry to think our friendship would end with the holidays,” said Mrs. McNab. “Indeed, after all the young people have gone away I should like to keep you here awhile, my dear, for a thorough rest—with nothing to do but lie about and read, or drive the car, or bathe. It would be dull, but I think it would be good for you.”

“You’re awfully kind, Mrs. McNab,” I said. “But there’s school—and Madame Carr. Think of the waiting twelve-year-olds to whom I teach deportment!”

“Hang the twelve-year-olds!” said Dr. Firth explosively.

I felt inclined to agree with him. For me, school and Madame Carr were only a fortnight away, and the prospect was a grim one. To see Colin and Madge again would be sheer delight, of course; but apart from those beloved ones I hated the very idea of leaving the country. My time at The Towers had been by no means all joy. Still, I had managed my job—that was some satisfaction; and I had made good friends, and had found Dr. Firth. And there were my dear little Judy and Jack. It was no small thing to be a Fellow-Member of the Band. I had yet to learn how big a thing it could be.

“I don’t suppose the twelve-year-olds will be any more pleased to see me than I shall be to meet them again,” I said, smiling at Dr. Firth’s outburst. “Still, they are not bad youngsters, on the whole, and I feel so well now that I’ll be able to tackle them in earnest. I was losing my grip before the holidays, and they were fully aware of it.”

Dr. Firth said nothing, but he still looked explosive. It was Mrs. McNab who answered.

“I hope that if they ever tire you out again you will remember that you have a home at The Towers, my dear. And then I shall try to give you a time without any worries—only peace.”

Poor soul—she looked as though she needed the peace herself. I was trying to reply fittingly when Bella appeared with the tea-tray and provided a welcome interruption. It was terribly embarrassing to have speeches made at one.

The next few days went by uneventfully. Judy and Jack scoured the country every day, returning in disgust at their lack of success in finding the jewels, but always ready to go out again. We saw nothing of Dr. Firth’s detectives. It was hinted that they had a clue, a possession which Harry declared no self-respecting detective to be without; but whatever it was, it seemed to lead them nowhere, and the belief grew in the neighbourhood that the robbers had made good their escape, and were not likely to trouble the Wootong district again. The girls ceased to lock their doors at night; the Melbourne papers, which had given a good deal of space to the burglary, dropped the subject in favour of something more interesting. Only Dr. Firth still held to his idea that his jewels were not far off. But as nobody agreed with him, he said little, remarking that a man who had no foundation for his opinions was wiser if he kept them to himself. He was very busy over the packing of his remaining curios; load after load of stuffed animals left his house, to the unconcealed joy of his servants, who declared—Julia reported to me—that the place was becoming one in which a self-respecting girl could move about at night without her hair rising erect upon her head. “An’ that’s more than one can say of this place, miss,” added Julia gloomily. “There’s more than poor dead beasts is in it at The Towers!”

Mrs. McNab and I paid another visit to the Island on the fourth night, taking a fresh supply of food. We found our refugee in a distinctly bad temper, loneliness and lack of tobacco being his principal grievances. He became rather more cheerful when we supplied the latter need, but muttered angrily when he learned that no letter had yet been received from his friend in Adelaide. “A man can’t stay on this beastly rock for ever!” I heard him say. “I’ll be in a pretty fix if Transom slips me up, after all.”

“You do not think he will, Ronald?” Mrs. McNab’s voice was sharp with anxiety.

“Oh, I don’t know. He seemed anxious enough to get me in with him, if I could raise a little money—but he could easily find somebody with more than I shall have. I’ll believe in him when I hear from him—and the letter should have come before now. For goodness’ sake come back as soon as you can, Marie; waiting in suspense in this hole is enough to send a man out of his mind!” He stood glowering at us as we left the Island. To my relief, he had not spoken to me at all.

I think that the doubt he put into Mrs. McNab’s mind about the friend in Adelaide was the last straw that broke down her endurance. She had made very certain of the prospect of help from this man, Transom: Mr. Hull had never spoken of him, she told me, as if there were any chance that his offer would not hold good. I did not believe it now: I felt sure that Mr. Hull had only tried to worry her by expressing a doubt that he did not really feel. It was one of his pleasant little ways, that he liked to work on her feelings by dwelling on dangers, both real and imaginary: she had told me this herself, and I ventured to remind her of it now. But she shook her head.

“I do not know. He can be very cruel, but I hardly think he would be so bitter as that. It may have been that his talk of Transom and America was only a trick to induce me to raise the money—and I have raised all that I can. But if Transom fails, whatever can we do? He has been my only hope. Ronald cannot leave Australia without a passport—he dares not try to get one himself, even under a false name. And nowhere in Australia is he safe.”

There was not much that I could say to comfort her. She gripped the rail of the launch, staring out to sea as we ran smoothly homeward: seeing, I knew, all that might lie before her: bringing her brother back by stealth to his old hiding-place in the Tower rooms, to enter again upon the dreary life of concealment and deception, with the ever-present risk of discovery, and of disgrace for them all. It was a bitter prospect. She looked ten years older when she said good night to me after we got back to the house. As I listened to her dragging footsteps, going wearily up the stairs, once more I longed very heartily for a strong man to deal with Mr. Ronald Hull.

It was not a surprise to me when Julia brought me word next morning that Mrs. McNab was ill.

“I dunno is it a fever she have on her,” said the handmaiden. “She do be all trembly-like, an’ as white as a hound’s tooth. Sorra a bit has she seen of her bed lasht night; I’d say she was fearin’ that if she tried to climb that small little ladder to her room it’s fallin’ back she’d have been. A rug on the sofy is all the comfort she’s afther having.”

“Well, she can’t stay there,” I said. “Miss Carrick left yesterday, Julia: we can bring Mrs. McNab down to her room.”

“’Twould be as good for her,” agreed Julia. “’Tis all ready, miss; as warrm as it is, I’ll clap a hot bottle between the sheets, the way she wouldn’t feel the chill. Let you go up to her now, for the poor soul’s unaisy till she sees you. Herself sets terrible store by you these days.”

There was no doubt that Mrs. McNab was ill—her appearance bore out all Julia’s description. She tried to make as little of it as possible, declaring that she was used to such attacks, and that a day in bed was all she needed; she had taken the necessary medicine, and utterly refused to see a doctor. But she did not resist being taken down to the vacant room near mine, and leaned heavily upon me as I helped her down the stairs. I was thankful when I saw her safely in bed.

“Don’t trouble about me,” she said weakly. “My head aches badly: I am better alone. It will pass off after a time. But you must bring the letters to me as soon as the post-bag comes from Wootong—promise me, Miss Earle.”

I promised, seeing that nothing else would keep her quiet. But when the mail arrived, the bundle of letters, which she turned over with shaking fingers, did not contain the one for which she longed.

“There is nothing from Transom,” she declared tragically. “I am afraid Ronald’s fear is only too well-founded.” She turned her face to the wall with a smothered groan.

It was the longest day that I had spent in The Towers. There was scarcely anything that I could do for my patient—she had no wishes, and would take hardly any nourishment. Beryl paid her a casual visit, and then left her to my care—Mother was like this occasionally, she said, and wanted only to be let alone until she was better. Harry was more concerned, but accepted philosophically the view that he could do nothing in the sick-room and would be of more practical use if he kept the house quiet by taking every one out: and presently all the party went off for an excursion, and with the throb of the departing motors The Towers settled down to silence. Judy and Jack had gone treasure-hunting again, taking their lunch with them. There was nothing for me to do but sit in my room, going often to steal a quiet look at my patient, who generally lay with closed eyes, her face grey against the white linen of the pillow.

She roused a little towards evening, and permitted me to take her temperature, which I found far too high for my peace of mind, though the thermometer’s reading did not trouble Mrs. McNab.

“Oh yes—it is often like that,” she said. “Give me some more of the medicine: it will be better in the morning.” She smiled feebly at my anxious face. “There is really no need for alarm, so far as I am concerned. The worst feature is that these attacks leave me so terribly weak: I am a wreck for days after one. And I have no time to be a wreck just now.”

This was so true than any comment on my part was needless; I could only beg her not to worry, which I felt to be a singularly stupid remark. She took a little nourishment, and soon afterwards fell into a heavy sleep, from which she did not stir until after midnight. Then she woke and smiled at me, and asked the time.

“And you still up!” she said reproachfully. “You must go to bed at once, Miss Earle. I am better, and there is no need whatever for you to sit up any longer.”

She was evidently better, and the temperature, though not yet normal, had gone down. I made her take a little chicken-broth and shook up her pillows, putting on cool, fresh covers.

“That is so nice!” she said, as her hot face touched their coolness. “Now I am going to sleep again, and you must do the same. I can ring if I want anything—but indeed I shall want nothing. Run off to bed at once, or I shall have to get up to make you go!”

I gave in, seeing that she was really worried about my being up, though I was not at all sleepy. Nevertheless, once I was in bed I slept like a log, and did not waken until I found Julia by my side with tea in the morning. She beamed cheerfully at me.

“Let you take your tay in peace, now,” she said. “The misthress is betther: she’s afther drinkin’ a cup, an’ she towld me to tell you to take your time, for she’s needin’ nothin’.”

“Is she really better, Julia?” I asked anxiously.

“She is. There’s great virtue in that quare little glass stick she’s afther suckin’; she med me give it to her, an’ she says it’s made her norrmal. I dunno what is norrmal, but she says she’s cured. The fever’s gone out of her entirely. But she have a strong wakeness on her yet; sure I had to howld the cup when she drank, for there’s no more power in her hand than a baby’s. But that’s nothin’ at all: we’ll have her as well as ever she was in a few days, if only she’ll leave the owld writin’ alone.”

Mrs. McNab greeted me with a smile when I hurried in.

“Ah, I told Julia to make you rest awhile,” she said. Her voice was still faint, but her eyes were clear, and the pain had gone out of them. “I am really better: the attack has passed off, and I have only to get rid of this weakness. But it takes time.”

She was a very meek patient that morning. All her powers were concentrated on getting back her strength: she took nourishment whenever I brought it to her, and tried to keep herself as placid as possible by sheer strength of will. But strength of will, even as great as Mrs. McNab’s, does not work miracles: she was still weak enough to tremble violently when I brought her her letters at twelve o’clock, and when she came to one in a dingy blue envelope her hand shook so that she had to let me open it for her. With a great effort she commanded herself to read it.

“It is from Transom!” she gasped. “Everything is arranged, and he wants Ronald to join him in Adelaide immediately—not to delay an hour longer than he can help!”

The letter fluttered to the ground and I sprang to her side. She had fainted.