Bindloss Harold
Johnstone of the Border
"We have six men; all from the first craft, so far as we can make out," the lieutenant reported, with rather strained quietness.
"Then the rest have gone," Rankine said. "We have lost one prisoner, too. It's pretty obvious that he jumped over. He must have known there were two submarines and expected the last to sink us."
"He was not in the boats. Do you want to see the men we picked up?"
"Not just yet. Let them have dry clothes and anything else they need. I wish we'd got some of the others; I don't know that one ought to think they deserved their fate. But, after all, when one remembers the torpedoed merchant ships – However, we'll land them in Loch Ryan. Let her go west by north until you make the Mull of Galloway light."
The lieutenant went out, and Rankine, lying back on the locker, lighted his pipe. It was his first battle, and he wanted to recover his normal calm. He had won, but he did not quite feel the exhilarating flush of victory he had expected. Instead, he rather shrank from dwelling upon the fight.
CHAPTER XXXI
UNEXPECTED HAPPINESS
Elsie, lying half awake, raised herself on her pillow as she heard a clock strike. The anxiety she had half forgotten returned to her with double force. Although she had not been quite asleep, she had lost count of the time, and it was now nearly three hours after low-water. The danger that had threatened Andrew must be past, but she did not know how long she must wait for news of him. Besides, some mischance might have befallen Dick. He had looked ill when she sent him on an errand that would severely try his strength.
After a long time she heard a sharp throbbing coming up the valley. It sounded like a motorcycle and she jumped out of bed and began to dress, wondering whether Dick had borrowed the machine at Annan and was returning. The sound grew louder; the motorcycle had passed the lodge and was nearing the house when Elsie quietly entered Madge's room.
"I heard it," Madge said. "I haven't been asleep. Shall I get up?"
"No." Elsie touched her in warning as a door opened.
There were steps in the passage, and they waited until the sound died away.
"Are you going down?" Madge asked.
"Yes; I feel that I must. But it might be better if you didn't come."
She heard the hall door open as she descended the stairs, but she kept on and waited at the bottom. The machine had stopped and she thought it significant that its driver had boldly ridden up to the house. If Dick had done so, he would have come in; but nobody had entered and Staffer had gone out. After a few minutes, she heard the sliding door of the garage run back. Elsie knew the sound of the small wheels as they grated upon the iron carrier.
The motorcycle sped away noisily down the drive, and soon afterward Staffer came in carrying a lantern. He did not see Elsie as he put the light on a table and locked a traveling bag. She thought it curious that the bag was ready packed; and since he had taken no precautions against being heard, it looked as if speed were more important than secrecy. The message that had been brought him must deal with some urgent matter. Still, Dick had not returned and she was horribly anxious. She could not wait to learn what had happened at the wreck.
As she moved forward to speak to Staffer, he looked up. His expression was tense, but she thought he was calm.
"So you have spied on me again!" he said.
"Where's Dick?"
"Dick?" repeated Staffer. "Ah! Now I begin to understand! You sent him down the Firth!"
"Yes; I did. And where is he?"
"On board Andrew's yacht, I imagine."
Elsie was sensible of keen satisfaction; but only part of her fears were set at rest.
"And Andrew? Is he on the yacht?"
Staffer looked hard at her. She was trembling with excitement and cold, but she did not flinch, and he surprised her by a curious, bitter laugh. It carried a hint of understanding that brought the blood to her face.
"I don't know where he is, but there's reason to think he has come to no harm. That ought to satisfy you."
Elsie was silent. Her relief was great, but now that Andrew was safe, her mind could fix itself on other matters. Staffer had guessed her secret and knew that she had spoiled his plans; but his manner was more ironical than revengeful. For all that, it disturbed and frightened her. She thought something that had hit him hard had happened, and his cold-blooded calm was daunting.
"Well," he said, "there's a touch of grim humor in the situation. I found you a home and gave you the advantages you enjoy; and now you have baffled me and ruined the work of cleverer brains than mine. It's humiliating to see one's schemes brought to nothing by a raw girl's devotion to her stupid lover."
"I'm sorry the course of things made us enemies. It was unavoidable," she said quietly.
Staffer made an impatient sign.
"I'm going away and it's very doubtful if I'll ever return; but I'd rather you didn't mention the matter until breakfast to-morrow. Then you can say I've gone to Edinburgh. Perhaps you can promise me that?"
"Yes. Don't you want to see Mother before you go?"
"No," Staffer answered thoughtfully; "it might be better if I didn't."
He broke off as the car came throbbing to the door; and Elsie followed him across the hall.
"If things had only been different," she said, "we might have been friends – "
Staffer did not seem to hear, for he jumped into the car and it rolled away. Elsie stood looking out into the darkness for a long time; then she shut the door and went slowly upstairs. She felt limp and bewildered now that the strain had gone; the one thing she realized clearly was that Andrew was safe.
Madge turned to her eagerly as she entered her room; but Elsie did not stop.
"They are all right, but I can't talk about it now," she said and passed on into her room, closing the door.
While Staffer was leaving Appleyard, Andrew was picking his way toward the burnfoot, across a boggy heath. He had landed about an hour earlier and gone to a farm to ask for a horse and trap and had sent a man to Annan for a doctor. Now he was returning as fast as possible, because he felt anxious about Dick; but caution was needed, for many deep drains crossed the heath. The mist had closed in again, and, as he stopped at the last drain to look for a narrow spot, he heard the languid splash of the surf and the wild cry of a black-backed gull. For some reason, the harsh sound disturbed him; and, jumping the drain where he stood, he went on as fast as he could. The splash of the sea grew louder, and at last he saw an indistinct figure waiting near the water's edge. Andrew was used to the sands at night, but the motionless dark form seemed to strike a deeper note of desolation. His steps slackened as he approached it.
"Is that you, Jim?" he called.
Whitney waited until he came up, and then put his hand on his arm.
"I'm afraid you must brace yourself against a shock," he said gently.
"Ah! You mean Dick's worse?"
Whitney pressed his arm sympathetically.
"He's dead."
There was silence for the next minute, except for the mournful murmur of the sea.
"It wasn't long after you went ashore," Whitney added. "He looked up and beckoned me to sit on the locker by his cot. 'Tell Andrew I'm glad he'll have Appleyard,' he said."
Whitney paused for a moment.
"He lay still afterward, and I thought he'd gone to sleep. Then the cabin seemed to grow strangely quiet, and when I got up to look at him I saw that he was dead."
"The hurried trip down-channel killed him, and he made it for my sake!" Andrew said, in a tense, hoarse voice.
"You mustn't take that for granted; but, if true, he certainly wouldn't grudge the risk. He might have died at any time from some trifling exertion."
Andrew indicated the dinghy, in which he had rowed off from the yacht alone.
"How did you get ashore?"
"The bank's steep and I sheered her in until I could jump from the bowsprit end. I didn't want you to come on board without knowing."
"Thanks," said Andrew. "I'm going off to her now. Try to get into Marshall's hut and make a fire. We'll have to wait some time for the doctor."
He launched the dinghy, and when he returned Whitney had lighted a few sticks and peats in the fisherman's sod hut. Andrew's face was grave as he sat down on an empty box.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk," he said.
He let Whitney row the doctor off when he arrived; and day was breaking when they reached Annan. An hour later, Andrew, feeling limp and cold, got down from a trap at Appleyard and walked stiffly into the hall. Elsie came to meet him with a glow in her eyes; but she stopped abruptly when she saw his face.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
He looked at her compassionately and she gasped.
"Oh! Is Dick – ?"
He put his arm around her and led her to an oak bench near the big fireplace.
"Dick's dead," he said quietly. "On board the Rowan. Heart failure, the doctor thinks."
"I sent him, when I knew he was ill!" she cried in distress.
"You didn't know it would do him much harm, dear."
"But I did!" Elsie moaned with a shiver, turning her head.
Andrew was puzzled, but he answered soothingly:
"I know what you feel, because I felt it too – Dick might have got better and lived a long time if he hadn't gone down-channel to warn me. In fact, I spoke to the doctor about it, but he didn't altogether take this view."
"He didn't want you to blame yourself."
"No; I don't think that was it. But it's a blow to us both, and the worst is I can do nothing to soften it for you."
"You loved him," she said with a look of pain. "You came home from Canada and fought Williamson for his sake. I was often impatient with him, and he always bore it well. He was generous and forgiving – and we know he was brave. He must have known the risk he ran – but he didn't hesitate. I knew it – and I sent him – "
Her voice trailed off and she broke into stormy sobbing, while Andrew, with his arm around her, awkwardly tried to comfort her. His touch seemed to have a soothing influence, for Elsie got calmer.
"You were always a help, Andrew; one turns to you in trouble," she said. "But I mustn't give way like this."
She rose as she spoke, and when she left him Andrew went up to Whitney's room.
"I expect Miss Woodhouse feels the thing keenly," Whitney said.
"Yes; in fact, she feels much as I do, in spite of what the doctor said. If Dick hadn't gone to our rescue, he'd have been with us yet. Still, I don't quite understand – "
"You don't see why she let him go, when she thought it might be dangerous?"
"Yes; that's what bothers me," Andrew said with some hesitation.
Whitney gave him a keen glance. He saw that Andrew had no suspicion of the truth; but it was not his business to enlighten him.
"Well, she may have thought there were two lives that could be saved against one that must be risked. It would be desperately hard for a young girl to face the responsibility of deciding right. Miss Woodhouse probably feels the strain – and, no doubt she's rather overcome by the consequences of the line she took. But when she gets calmer she'll see that she can't blame herself. But you had better change your clothes and get some breakfast."
It was a relief to Andrew to find his time occupied. At noon he was surprised by a request for an interview with a man he did not know. The stranger was shown into the library and gave Andrew a letter.
"My card may convey nothing to you, but here are my credentials."
The letter was from the Home Secretary's office and was countersigned by an eminent military authority.
"I'm at your command," Andrew said. "What is it you want to know?"
"Perhaps I'd better state that my visit is made in a friendly spirit. We recognize the patriotic line you and your cousin have taken. I met him once, and, it's rather curious, he invited me to Appleyard."
"Ah!" exclaimed Andrew. "I never thought that Dick – "
"Shared your suspicions? I can't tell you how far his went, but he may have known more than you imagine. He certainly once did us an important service. But we'll let that go. Did Mr. Staffer offer any explanation for leaving here early this morning?"
"He said he was going to Edinburgh; that was all."
"Well, he got to Hawick, where we lost trace of him, but I think it's impossible that he went farther north. Have you any ground for suspecting who brought him the warning?"
"None," said Andrew shortly.
"I'm glad I can take your word, Mr. Johnstone. Now I must ask you to tell me about your recent adventures on the sands. You see, I'm in touch with Lieutenant Rankine and the coastguards."
Andrew related what had happened, and his companion looked satisfied.
"You don't seem to know that Williamson's body was washed up on the Colvend shore, a few hours ago."
"Oh!"
"The man who could have told us most has gone. Our hope now is to catch Staffer."
"You'd better make Appleyard your headquarters while you're looking into things," Andrew said. "We have nothing to hide."
"Thanks; I'll be glad to do so. It may be some satisfaction for you to learn that no unnecessary publicity will be allowed to attend this matter."
The next day, the officer told Andrew that Staffer's car had been found on the roadside, near a small fishing village on the Northumberland coast.
"He doubled back into England by Norham," he added. "When our men got upon his track they found he'd covered the distances between the points at which they heard of him extraordinarily fast. In consequence, he had a number of hours' start when he left the car, and as a fishing boat sailed soon afterward, I'm afraid he got away across the North Sea."
"I can't say that I am sorry he escaped," Andrew replied; "but I won't complain if his friends on the other side keep him there for good."
Dick was buried two days later, in a lonely kirkyard where many of his race had been laid to rest. The kirk had long crumbled down except for one tottering arch, but, as usual in the country, the funeral service was held at Appleyard, and Andrew's heart stirred as he saw the long stream of mourners coming up the drive. Dick had not died unlamented, but even those who knew him best were astonished at the number of his friends. None of his tenantry was missing, his neighbors had come from far and near; but there were others – fishermen, shepherds, men who lived by horse-couping and other devious means, and innkeepers from Dumfries and Lockerbie. The respectability of some was doubtful, but their grief was obvious, so far as the Scottish character allowed it to be seen, and Andrew gave them all his thanks and hand. This was an ancient custom and he was now the head of the family; but as he looked at the rows of solemn faces, he wondered whether he could win the love his predecessor had won.
That night, when the others had gone to bed, Andrew sat talking to Rankine by the fire in the hall.
"Has the fellow we caught on the sands made any admissions?" he asked. "I understand you have seen him."
"None so far. He declined to talk, and, if I'm a judge of character, it's the line he'll stick to until the end. He sees that he has no defense. I'm rather curious about his rank; but he's obviously a navy man."
"He'll be court-martialed?"
"Yes. It will be kept quiet, for one or two reasons, and I don't think you'll be wanted."
"That's a relief. What's your private opinion about the matter? Was the plot confined to supplying the submarines?"
Rankine lighted a cigarette before he answered.
"On the whole, I don't think so. In fact, it's possible there was some foundation for your theory about the Eskdale road."
"Then you know something?"
"Something," Rankine agreed with a smile. "Now that my business on the coast is finished and I'm going to join a battleship, I may perhaps tell you that my rank is not lieutenant."
"Well, now that you are here, I hope you can spare us a few days."
"Thanks; I'll be glad to. My new ship needs some refitting and they don't want me at Portsmouth yet."
The next few months passed uneventfully at Appleyard. For the most part, Andrew was kept occupied, investigating Dick's affairs and making new arrangements for the improvement of the estate. It was a relief to be busy; for his loss still weighed on him; and he had another trouble. Every day he grew deeper in love with Elsie; and she seemed to try purposely to avoid him. When they met she was friendly, but he noticed a hint of reserve in her manner. At last he began to think he would better go to Canada for a while when he had put everything straight.
Then, one cold spring evening, when he came back from a visit to a moorland farm, he found her sitting by the fire in the hall. The light was getting dim but the glow from the logs fell on her, and he noted her quick, nervous movement as she saw him.
"I'm afraid I startled you," he said, stopping beside her. "I've been walking about a wet bog all afternoon, examining drains, and it looks very cozy here. I won't disturb you if I sit down?"
"Of course not."
Andrew took a chair near her, and stretched his hands to the fire. Neither spoke for a few minutes; and their silence seemed the deeper because of the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
"I've always loved Appleyard," Andrew said slowly, looking about the big hall; "but somehow it doesn't seem homey to me now. There's something wanting; it's too big, or I'm better used to a boat."
"You miss Dick," Elsie answered softly, with a touch of color in her face. "Though he was often ill, it's wonderful how bright he was."
"Yes; I miss him all the time – but perhaps not as you do."
Andrew's voice was full of sympathy, and Elsie gave him a quick glance.
"You must know the truth, Andrew," she said impulsively. "At first I did feel miserably guilty for having sent Dick on a dangerous errand when I knew he was ill – "
"Dick went because he wanted to go," Andrew interrupted. "He never shirked a risk, and least of all when he could help his friends."
"But if I had loved Dick in the way you seem to think I loved him – perhaps I would not have been brave enough to let him go – I can't be sure."
"You didn't love him in that way?"
Elsie looked down at the book which lay in her lap. Her face was flooded with color, but a smile played about her lips.
"I would never have married Dick," she said, in a voice so low that Andrew had to lean toward her to catch her words.
"There was some one else?" he asked tensely.
She looked up at him then, and he gasped at the deepening glow in her eyes.
"What a stupid thing you are, Andrew! You ought to – "
He waited.
"Elsie – "
His voice was a mingling of incredulity and joy; and she answered his unspoken question with a shy smile.
"Of course – dear!"
