Sweet Danger Read online

  ‘Hallo, my boy,’ he bellowed as soon as he was within speaking distance. ‘Glad to find you. I was coming down to see you all,’ he went on as he came up to shake hands over the half-door. ‘I really ought to see you all together. You must forgive me if I sound mysterious, but I feel that I’ve made a discovery, and I know you will all excuse me if I make a little occasion out of the telling.’

  There was no hint of jocularity in his tone. On the contrary, he spoke with a profound seriousness which Hal found embarrassing.

  ‘I want you all to come up to my house to-morrow night,’ the doctor continued, permitting a hint of his excitement to creep into his voice. ‘When I say “all”, I mean you, your sisters, and that man Randall, if he’s still here. He seemed a nice person, didn’t you think, Hal?’

  The boy looked at the old man sharply. Dr Galley’s manner was always strange, but to-day there was something definitely odd about it. His round eyes seemed wider than usual, his plump face less rosy.

  ‘You like the man Randall?’ the doctor continued with such earnestness that it put the question quite outside the range of casual interest. ‘I mean, you think he’s an honest, sober, decent, clean-living man?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I think so, sir,’ said Hal, rather taken aback by this trend in the conversation.

  ‘Splendid,’ said the doctor fervently. ‘Splendid. Just the man. Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about it now. I must go in to see your sisters and your aunt. I suppose she ought to come to-morrow. It’s going to be a great day for you, my boy, a great day. I want you all to be up at my house at half past six. It’s an unconventional hour, but it’s the best time for me. You wouldn’t fail me, would you? You’d regret it if you did.’

  ‘I’m sure we’d like to come, sir,’ said Hal dubiously. ‘Of course. Thank you very much. The only thing is that we’re tremendously busy down here just now and –’

  ‘Oh, you’d regret it all your life if you didn’t come, Hal.’ The little man bent forward as he spoke. ‘Look here, I’ll tell you this much. Last night I was rummaging in my library when I picked up an old volume of Catullus. The cover slipped off and I found that it had been made with pockets in the binding.’ He lowered his voice mysteriously. ‘In one of the pockets I found a document written by my great-uncle. He was the incumbent here in Lady Josephine’s time, you remember. And I found another thing: a page torn out of the church register of the period. D’you realize what that means?’

  Hal stared at him. ‘Do you mean that you’ve found proof of the marriage between Mary Fitton and Hal Pontisbright?’

  The old man put up his hand. ‘Not another word until to-morrow night. It’s my discovery and I want it to be my party. You’ll come now, won’t you?’

  ‘Rather! Of course. I say, this is wonderful of you, Dr Galley.’

  The old man regarded him steadily. ‘I can show you greater wonders than that, my boy,’ he said solemnly. ‘Don’t come into the house with me. I think I’ll tell your aunt and your sisters alone, if you don’t mind. I won’t give any more away than I’ve told you. I want to keep it for a real surprise. I shall see you at half past six, then, my boy. Half past six to-morrow night. Oh – and, Hal, you’ll forgive me for saying this, but it’s very important. Could you – er – put on completely clean clothes?’

  The boy stared at him, and the old man hurried on.

  ‘I know it sounds peculiar to you, but put it down to an old man’s fad. Completely clean clothes, all of you.’

  He hurried off before the boy had time to say anything further, and Hal looked after him in astonishment. He watched the little man until he disappeared into the house, and then relapsed into his old position leaning over the half-door. His natural impulse was to follow the doctor to see if he could glean any more information on this exciting theme, but he was an obstinate soul and he had made up his mind to wait for Amanda.

  He ceased to think about his sister, however, for Dr Galley’s hints had raised all sorts of possibilities. If the missing page from the church register had really been found, and Mary Fitton’s marriage could be proved, then his own claim to the Pontisbright fortune and titles could hardly be disputed.

  This disturbing thought was followed by the recollection of his father’s disastrous attempt to fight the claim and the penury to which it had reduced his children. The proof was not much use without money, Hal reflected gloomily, and the subject of money brought him back naturally enough to Amanda.

  However, he completely forgot to walk over to the door and discover what Dr Galley had hidden so carefully above the lintel. His exasperation with Amanda had just been aroused again when she appeared, seated at the wheel of a two-year-old Morris Cowley which shot dangerously down the lane, escaped the mill-race by inches, and pulled up with a shriek of brakes as its inexpert driver, flushed but triumphant, brought it to a standstill.

  She waved airily to her brother and stepped out with conscious pride.

  ‘Hullo,’ she said. ‘If the Quinney children came down for their battery I hope you didn’t give it to them. It isn’t nearly done. I didn’t put it on until this morning. I know you’re impressed, but don’t stand there gaping at me. Get the garage open and I’ll see if I can steer this bus in.’

  Hal felt that this was hardly the opening for the tremendous chastening which Amanda was due to receive. He was also extremely interested in the first petrol engine to be owned by the Fitton family, and it annoyed him to find that his desire to examine it was becoming overwhelmingly strong. He let himself out of the mill and walked towards the car with as much dignity as he could muster.

  ‘I say, you can’t see it here,’ said Amanda hastily before he was within six feet of her. ‘Get the garage open and I’ll show it to you in there. Scatty is bringing the brougham from Sweethearting. I dropped him there. Do you think we shall be able to get them both in?’

  ‘Now look here, Amanda.’ Hal strove to make his tone authoritative rather than querulous. ‘You’ve got to explain. You’re disgracing the whole family; putting us all in an awkward position. And I, for one, am not standing it. Leave that smelly little sardine tin alone and come into the house, and let’s have a full explanation. Fortunately our guests are out of the way, and if you insist on making a fuss it won’t matter.’

  ‘It isn’t a smelly little sardine tin,’ said his sister, touched on the raw. ‘The exhaust smells a little, but that’s nothing. Get that door open or I’ll run over you. I did fifty coming home.’

  Hal strode forward and placed his hand on the side of the car as though he would hold it down by main force if necessary. As he had feared, Amanda was going to be difficult.

  ‘Before this car goes into our coach-house,’ he said firmly, ‘I want to know where you got the money to buy it.’

  He stopped abruptly, his eyes resting on a bundle lying on the back seat.

  Amanda saw his changing expression and sprang forward, but she was too late. Hal whipped off the covering and there lay exposed in the clear sunlight the Pontisbright Malplaquet drum.

  It was a side drum, a little longer than the pattern now in use, but its dark blue sides were still gay with a faded crest, and worn white cords long since devoid of pipe-clay hung gallantly from the under-hoop.

  The two faced each other across the car, the drum between them. Amanda was scarlet and inclined to be truculent, while Hal was pale with rage and shame. Slowly he stepped down off the running board and went round to his sister. Amanda did not follow his intentions, so that when he came up behind her and jerked her wrists together behind her back she was taken completely off her guard.

  As soon as he began to march her into the mill, however, she protested violently. But he was angry and in no mood for half measures.

  ‘I’m so furious with you, Amanda,’ he said, speaking like a child through clenched teeth, ‘that I simply can’t trust myself not to beat you up. I’m going to lock you in the granary to cool your heels for a bit, until I decide what’s best to be done w
ith you.’

  Amanda knew when she was beaten. Early tussles with Hal had proved to her beyond doubt that he was by far the stronger. She kept her dignity, however, as she permitted him to guide her into the concrete-lined chamber on the ground floor of the mill, whose only exits were a heavy oak door which bolted on the outside and a small grated window high up in the wall.

  The sense of satisfaction as he slammed the door to and thrust the bolt home was the sweetest balm his outraged sensibilities had received in the whole afternoon. He hurried back to the car and, having made sure that he was not overlooked, he rewrapped the drum in its covering, and, armed with the bundle, crept into the house by the side door and up the back stairs to his bedroom.

  This room, situated under the roof on the second floor, ran the whole depth of the house on the eastern side, and from its narrow casement window he had a clear view of the yard and the approaching lane. He set the drum down upon the bed and stood for some time looking at it, a sense of excitement tightening his heart.

  It was a beautiful romantic toy, so bravely coloured, so gallantly braced. The belt hook was still shiny, and with pardonable vanity he was constrained to hitch it clumsily to his belt and peer at himself in the mirror. He tapped it gently with his knuckles, and the hollow sound was comforting, but it did not produce any startling or untoward results.

  He put his head out of the door and listened. Mary and Aunt Hatt, he guessed, were still in the drawing-room with Dr Galley, and he went softly back into the room and rummaged among the odds and ends in a drawer of his dressing-table until he found an old ivory ruler. Armed with this, he advanced upon the drum and beat it vigorously.

  The head was loose and the sound buzzed hollowly round the room.

  He gave it up. In view of Amanda’s behaviour, he reflected, the only thing he could do was to hand over the trophy untouched as soon as the others returned. He wandered over to the window and looked down, to be rewarded by the sight of Scatty Williams returning with the ancient brougham. He shouted down to him:

  ‘Don’t go into the mill, Scatty. As soon as you’ve put that away you might trundle Miss Amanda’s new car in after it. Then go round to the kitchen and stay there.’

  The old man touched his hat without looking up and set about the work obediently.

  Hal continued to lean out of the window. He saw Dr Galley depart, and some ten minutes later Aunt Hatt set out, a shallow basket containing white flowers on her arm. He guessed she was going up to the church. On Friday evenings Miss Huntingforest made it her business to attend to the altar vases, and she went off now looking very businesslike in her tweeds, a stout ash-plant held firmly in her gloved hand.

  From where he stood Hal had a wide view of the surrounding country. He could see Lugg fishing placidly in the millpool. Only Mary was unaccounted for, and he guessed that she was in the kitchen preparing Scatty’s tea.

  Once a light sound from the mill startled him and he turned to look at the gaunt white building. The skylight in the room where the oak was kept was shut, he noticed, and it puzzled him, for he could have sworn that it had been open a moment before. Still, since there was no one there to close the window, he dismissed the matter from his mind.

  He was still keeping vigil when the others returned. He caught sight of their disconsolate faces as they clambered out of the Lagonda. He glanced behind him. The drum was still lying on the bed, and, bursting with excitement, he hurried down the back stairs and into the hall where they were standing round the table.

  Guffy held a letter in his hand. It had come by the second post, and had been lying there ever since twelve o’clock. He glanced up from the document as Hal appeared.

  ‘Where’s Amanda?’ he demanded sternly.

  ‘Yes,’ put in Farquharson. ‘I’m afraid we want an interview with her rather badly.’

  ‘I know,’ said Hal hastily. ‘I say, I’m awfully sorry this has happened. She’s gone completely off her head, of course. But don’t imagine I’m standing for it. I’ve locked her up. She’s in the granary, and you can deal with her yourselves afterwards. But first of all you’ve got to come upstairs with me. Don’t you see? I – I’ve got it!’

  ‘The drum?’ enquired Guffy eagerly as they crowded round him.

  Hal nodded. ‘I’ve got it. It’s upstairs on my bed. I say, I’ve given it a tap or two, but nothing’s happened.’

  Guffy’s grip bit into the boy’s shoulder, ‘That’s great. I’ve got a letter here from Professor Kirk, our expert.’ He put the sheet of paper on the table. ‘Look, here you are. Here’s the only paragraph that matters. “In my opinion the word stricken when used in reference to the Malplaquet drum probably means broken or riven. I should suggest that when you acquire the trophy you should bring it to London for expert examination.”’

  ‘Good heavens, let’s get our hands on the thing!’ said Eager-Wright. ‘Where is it, Hal?’

  The boy led them up the main staircase triumphantly and into the bedroom, which he had left barely five minutes before.

  ‘I couldn’t lock the door,’ he explained. ‘Because there isn’t a key. And, anyway, I knew where everyone in the house was. Look, there it is.’

  He pointed to the blue-and-white cylinder which still lay upon the bed. They hurried forward, and Guffy was the first to emit an exclamation which sent a chill of alarm down Hal’s spine.

  ‘Look here,’ he said, ‘when did this happen?’

  The boy stood staring down in helpless amazement at the sight which confronted him. Although the Malplaquet drum remained where he had left it, in his absence the bracing cords had been slashed through, and the underhead had been removed. The discarded hoop lay loose upon the coverlet.

  The boy stared at his friends, scarlet-faced and stammering.

  ‘It wasn’t like this when I came down five minutes ago,’ he ejaculated. ‘And there was no one in this part of the house. Aunt Hatt has gone out, Scatty and Mary are in the kitchen, Lugg’s fishing. Amanda’s locked up in the granary, bolted on the outside –’ He broke off helplessly.

  From the yard below came the sharp, ominous sound of splitting wood. They crowded to the window and looked out. Amanda stood on the cobbles, hammer and chisel in hand. With the calm of one setting out on a pleasant but arduous task, she was breaking open the largest of the three packing cases.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Before the Storm

  GUFFY RANDALL LAY on his back, and stared at the fluted beam which sprawled across the bedroom ceiling. It was just dawn. Through the casement on his right he could see the tops of the elms in the meadow gilded with morning light, but the beauties of Pontisbright held no longer any attraction for him. He was contemplating his failure to complete the task Campion had left undone. Even now he could not trust himself to think about the Hereditary Paladin. His somewhat sentimental heart had been wrung by his old friend’s desertion. His own position at the moment kept him occupied, however, and as he lay gloomily regarding the ceiling it re-occurred to him that things were bad.

  He heaved over on to his side. There was Amanda, for one thing. Whom was she working for? And the odd little doctor with his fishy invitation and crazy astrological talk. There was the terrorized village, the vanishing of Widow’s Peak, and the mysterious raid of the night before, which had ended more mysteriously still.

  He had been inclined to welcome the raid. After all, when it came to a straight fight he was up against something to combat which he could at least lend a hand. But even that adventure had proved unsatisfactory. The only comforting thing it had shown was the fact that wherever the Averna proofs might be, they were not then in alien hands.

  He sat up in bed and clasped his knees. After the disappearance of the drumhead on the previous evening he had been so sure on this point, especially when an exhaustive search of the house and mill had revealed nothing.

  Amanda, of course, had hardly been helpful. Her airy account of walking out of the granary on discovering that the door had been unbolted had no
t been convincing, and her absorption in her new radio apparatus had proved frankly exasperating. Even the good-natured Eager-Wright was finding it hard to champion her.

  With the end of the search had come the certainty that the under-head had vanished, and whatever the drum might have contained was in enemy hands. Complete failure had seemed obvious until Aunt Hatt had returned from the church with her extraordinary tale of the camp on the heath.

  In the chill morning light, Guffy turned the story over in his mind. A party of hikers, quite twenty of them the good lady was convinced, had descended upon the village, and put up in tents on the heath. Mrs Bull, who had been distributing hassocks in the church at the same time as Aunt Hatt had been attending to the flowers, had volunteered the information that they were the same archaeological students that her husband had refused to accommodate the day before. Aunt Hatt, her suspicions aroused, had walked boldly home across the heath and taken in as much of the scene as her sharp eyes could see of the strangers.

  She had come back with the information that they were criminals, every man of them: most suspicious.

  Guffy and Eager-Wright had walked down to the village later in the evening, ostensibly to visit the ‘Gauntlett’, but they had seen nothing of the archaeologists save the little white tents grouped together like the sails of a schooner on the dark sea of the heath.

  Guffy stirred restlessly. The faint air of inaction and the impression that they were waiting for some storm to break he found unnerving.

  Finally, he rose to lean out of the window and inspect the morning. It was barely five o’clock. A ground mist levelled the contours of the valley, although he could just see the course of the narrow river winding down through the low meadows on the southern side of the heath, picked out by the high brambles and pollard willows which lined its banks, and grew so thickly that in most places the stream was obscured.