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Chapter 15
I
'What shall we do?' said Audrey.
She looked at me hopefully, as if I were a mine of ideas. Her
voice was level, without a suggestion of fear in it. Women have
the gift of being courageous at times when they might legitimately
give way. It is part of their unexpectedness.
This was certainly such an occasion. Daylight would bring us
relief, for I did not suppose that even Buck MacGinnis would care
to conduct a siege which might be interrupted by the arrival of
tradesmen's carts; but while the darkness lasted we were
completely cut off from the world. With the destruction of the
telephone wire our only link with civilization had been snapped.
Even had the night been less stormy than it was, there was no
chance of the noise of our warfare reaching the ears of anyone who
might come to the rescue. It was as Sam had said, Buck's energy
united to his strategy formed a strong combination.
Broadly speaking, there are only two courses open to a beleaguered
garrison. It can stay where it is, or it can make a sortie. I
considered the second of these courses.
It was possible that Sam and his allies had departed in the
automobile to get reinforcements, leaving the coast temporarily
clear; in which case, by escaping from the house at once, we might
be able to slip unobserved through the grounds and reach the
village in safety. To support this theory there was the fact that
the car, on its late visit, had contained only the chauffeur and
the two ambassadors, while Sam had spoken of the remainder of
Buck's gang as being in readiness to attack in the event of my not
coming to terms. That might mean that they were waiting at Buck's
headquarters, wherever those might be--at one of the cottages down
the road, I imagined; and, in the interval before the attack
began, it might be possible for us to make our sortie with
success.
'Is Ogden in bed?' I asked.
'Yes.'
'Will you go and get him up as quickly as you can?'
I strained my eyes at the window, but it was impossible to see
anything. The rain was still falling heavily. If the drive had
been full of men they would have been invisible to me.
Presently Audrey returned, followed by Ogden. The Little Nugget
was yawning the aggrieved yawns of one roused from his beauty
sleep.
'What's all this?' he demanded.
'Listen,' I said. 'Buck MacGinnis and Smooth Sam Fisher have come
after you. They are outside now. Don't be frightened.'
He snorted derisively.
'Who's frightened? I guess they won't hurt _me_. How do you know
it's them?'
'They have just been here. The man who called himself White, the
butler, was really Sam Fisher. He has been waiting an opportunity
to get you all the term.'
'White! Was he Sam Fisher?' He chuckled admiringly. 'Say, he's a
wonder!'
'They have gone to fetch the rest of the gang.'
'Why don't you call the cops?'
'They have cut the wire.'
His only emotions at the news seemed to be amusement and a renewed
admiration for Smooth Sam. He smiled broadly, the little brute.
'He's a wonder!' he repeated. 'I guess he's smooth, all right.
He's the limit! He'll get me all right this trip. I bet you a
nickel he wins out.'
I found his attitude trying. That he, the cause of all the trouble,
should be so obviously regarding it as a sporting contest got up
for his entertainment, was hard to bear. And the fact that, whatever
might happen to myself, he was in no danger, comforted me not at all.
If I could have felt that we were in any way companions in peril,
I might have looked on the bulbous boy with quite a friendly eye.
As it was, I nearly kicked him.
'We had better waste no time,' suggested Audrey, 'if we are going.'
'I think we ought to try it,' I said.
'What's that?' asked the Nugget. 'Go where?'
'We are going to steal out through the back way and try to slip
through to the village.'
The Nugget's comment on the scheme was brief and to the point. He
did not embarrass me with fulsome praise of my strategic genius.
'Of all the fool games!' he said simply. 'In this rain? No, sir!'
This new complication was too much for me. In planning out my
manoeuvres I had taken his cooperation for granted. I had looked
on him as so much baggage--the impedimenta of the retreating army.
And, behold, a mutineer!
I took him by the scruff of the neck and shook him. It was a
relief to my feelings and a sound move. The argument was one which
he understood.
'Oh, all right,' he said. 'Anything you like. Come on. But it sounds
to me like darned foolishness!'
If nothing else had happened to spoil the success of that sortie,
the Nugget's depressing attitude would have done so. Of all things,
it seems to me, a forlorn hope should be undertaken with a certain
enthusiasm and optimism if it is to have a chance of being successful.
Ogden threw a gloom over the proceedings from the start. He was cross
and sleepy, and he condemned the expedition unequivocally. As we moved
towards the back door he kept up a running stream of abusive comment.
I silenced him before cautiously unbolting the door, but he had said
enough to damp my spirits. I do not know what effect it would have
had on Napoleon's tactics if his army--say, before Austerlitz--had
spoken of his manoeuvres as a 'fool game' and of himself as a 'big
chump', but I doubt if it would have stimulated him.
The back door of Sanstead House opened on to a narrow yard, paved
with flagstones and shut in on all sides but one by walls. To the
left was the outhouse where the coal was stored, a squat barnlike
building: to the right a wall that appeared to have been erected
by the architect in an outburst of pure whimsicality. It just
stood there. It served no purpose that I had ever been able to
discover, except to act as a cats' club-house.
Tonight, however, I was thankful for this wall. It formed an
important piece of cover. By keeping in its shelter it was
possible to work round the angle of the coal-shed, enter the
stable-yard, and, by making a detour across the football field,
avoid the drive altogether. And it was the drive, in my opinion,
that might be looked on as the danger zone.
The Nugget's complaints, which I had momentarily succeeded in
checking, burst out afresh as the rain swept in at the open door
and lashed our faces. Certainly it was not an ideal night for a
ramble. The wind was blowing through the opening at the end of the
yard with a compressed violence due to the confined space. There
was a suggestion in our position of the Cave of the Winds under
Niagara Falls, the verisimilitude of which was increased by the
stream of water that poured down from the gutter above our heads.
The Nugget found it unpleasant, and said so shrilly.
I pushed him out into the storm, still protesting, and we began to
creep across the yard. Half-way to the first point of importance
of our journey, the corner of the coal-shed, I halted the
expedition. There was a sudden lull in the wind, and I took
advantage of it to listen.
From somewhere beyond the wall, apparently near the house, sounded
the muffled note of the automobile. The siege-party had returned.
There was no time to be lost. Apparently the possibility of a
sortie had not yet occurred to Sam, or he would hardly have left
the back door unguarded; but a general of his astuteness was
certain to remedy the mistake soon, and our freedom of action
might be a thing of moments. It behoved us to reach the stable-yard
as quickly as possible. Once there, we should be practically through
the enemy's lines.
Administering a kick to the Nugget, who showed a disposition to
linger and talk about the weather, I moved on, and we reached the
corner of the coal-shed in safety.
We had now arrived at the really perilous stage in our journey.
Having built his wall to a point level with the end of the coal-shed,
the architect had apparently wearied of the thing and given it up;
for it ceased abruptly, leaving us with a matter of half a dozen
yards of open ground to cross, with nothing to screen us from the
watchers on the drive. The flagstones, moreover, stopped at this
point. On the open space was loose gravel. Even if the darkness
allowed us to make the crossing unseen, there was the risk that we
might be heard.
It was a moment for a flash of inspiration, and I was waiting for
one, when that happened which took the problem out of my hands.
From the interior of the shed on our left there came a sudden
scrabbling of feet over loose coal, and through the square opening
in the wall, designed for the peaceful purpose of taking in sacks,
climbed two men. A pistol cracked. From the drive came an
answering shout. We had been ambushed.
I had misjudged Sam. He had not overlooked the possibility of a
sortie.
It is the accidents of life that turn the scale in a crisis. The
opening through which the men had leaped was scarcely a couple of
yards behind the spot where we were standing. If they had leaped
fairly and kept their feet, they would have been on us before we
could have moved. But Fortune ordered it that, zeal outrunning
discretion, the first of the two should catch his foot in the
woodwork and fall on all fours, while the second, unable to check
his spring, alighted on top of him, and, judging from the stifled
yell which followed, must have kicked him in the face.
In the moment of their downfall I was able to form a plan and
execute it.
'The stables!'
I shouted the words to Audrey in the act of snatching up the
Nugget and starting to run. She understood. She did not hesitate
in the direction of the house for even the instant which might
have undone us, but was with me at once; and we were across the
open space and in the stable-yard before the first of the men in
the drive loomed up through the darkness. Half of the wooden
double-gate of the yard was open, and the other half served us as
a shield. They fired as they ran--at random, I think, for it was
too dark for them to have seen us clearly--and two bullets slapped
against the gate. A third struck the wall above our heads and
ricocheted off into the night. But before they could fire again we
were in the stables, the door slammed behind us, and I had dumped
the Nugget on the floor, and was shooting the heavy bolts into
their places. Footsteps clattered over the flagstones and stopped
outside. Some weighty body plunged against the door. Then there
was silence. The first round was over.
The stables, as is the case in most English country-houses, had
been, in its palmy days, the glory of Sanstead House. In whatever
other respect the British architect of that period may have fallen
short, he never scamped his work on the stables. He built them
strong and solid, with walls fitted to repel the assaults of the
weather, and possibly those of men as well, for the Boones in
their day had been mighty owners of race-horses at a time when men
with money at stake did not stick at trifles, and it was prudent
to see to it that the spot where the favourite was housed had
something of the nature of a fortress. The walls were thick, the
door solid, the windows barred with iron. We could scarcely have
found a better haven of refuge.
Under Mr Abney's rule, the stables had lost their original
character. They had been divided into three compartments, each
separated by a stout wall. One compartment became a gymnasium,
another the carpenter's shop, the third, in which we were,
remained a stable, though in these degenerate days no horse ever
set foot inside it, its only use being to provide a place for the
odd-job man to clean shoes. The mangers which had once held fodder
were given over now to brushes and pots of polish. In term-time,
bicycles were stored in the loose-box which had once echoed to the
tramping of Derby favourites.
I groped about among the pots and brushes, and found a candle-end,
which I lit. I was running a risk, but it was necessary to inspect
our ground. I had never troubled really to examine this stable
before, and I wished to put myself in touch with its geography.
I blew out the candle, well content with what I had seen. The only
two windows were small, high up, and excellently barred. Even if
the enemy fired through them there were half a dozen spots where
we should be perfectly safe. Best of all, in the event of the door
being carried by assault, we had a second line of defence in a
loft. A ladder against the back wall led to it, by way of a trap-door.
Circumstances had certainly been kind to us in driving us to this
apparently impregnable shelter.
On concluding my inspection, I became aware that the Nugget was
still occupied with his grievances. I think the shots must have
stimulated his nerve centres, for he had abandoned the languid
drawl with which, in happier moments, he was wont to comment on
life's happenings, and was dealing with the situation with a
staccato briskness.
'Of all the darned fool lay-outs I ever struck, this is the limit.
What do those idiots think they're doing, shooting us up that way?
It went within an inch of my head. It might have killed me. Gee,
and I'm all wet. I'm catching cold. It's all through your blamed
foolishness, bringing us out here. Why couldn't we stay in the
house?'
'We could not have kept them out of the house for five minutes,' I
explained. 'We can hold this place.'
'Who wants to hold it? I don't. What does it matter if they do get
me? _I_ don't care. I've a good mind to walk straight out through
that door and let them rope me in. It would serve Dad right. It
would teach him not to send me away from home to any darned school
again. What did he want to do it for? I was all right where I was.
I--'
A loud hammering on the door cut off his eloquence. The
intermission was over, and the second round had begun.
It was pitch dark in the stable now that I had blown out the
candle, and there is something about a combination of noise and
darkness which tries the nerves. If mine had remained steady, I
should have ignored the hammering. From the sound, it appeared to
be made by some wooden instrument--a mallet from the carpenter's
shop I discovered later--and the door could be relied on to hold
its own without my intervention. For a novice to violence,
however, to maintain a state of calm inaction is the most
difficult feat of all. I was irritated and worried by the noise,
and exaggerated its importance. It seemed to me that it must be
stopped at once.
A moment before, I had bruised my shins against an empty packing-case,
which had found its way with other lumber into the stable. I groped
for this, swung it noiselessly into position beneath the window,
and, standing on it, looked out. I found the catch of the window,
and opened it. There was nothing to be seen, but the sound of the
hammering became more distinct; and pushing an arm through the bars,
I emptied my pistol at a venture.
As a practical move, the action had flaws. The shots cannot have
gone anywhere near their vague target. But as a demonstration, it
was a wonderful success. The yard became suddenly full of dancing
bullets. They struck the flagstones, bounded off, chipped the
bricks of the far wall, ricocheted from those, buzzed in all
directions, and generally behaved in a manner calculated to unman
the stoutest hearted.
The siege-party did not stop to argue. They stampeded as one man.
I could hear them clattering across the flagstones to every point
of the compass. In a few seconds silence prevailed, broken only by
the swish of the rain. Round two had been brief, hardly worthy to
be called a round at all, and, like round one, it had ended wholly
in our favour.
I jumped down from my packing-case, swelling with pride. I had had
no previous experience of this sort of thing, yet here I was
handling the affair like a veteran. I considered that I had a
right to feel triumphant. I lit the candle again, and beamed
protectively upon the garrison.
The Nugget was sitting on the floor, gaping feebly, and awed for
the moment into silence. Audrey, in the far corner, looked pale
but composed. Her behaviour was perfect. There was nothing for her
to do, and she was doing it with a quiet self-control which won
my admiration. Her manner seemed to me exactly suited to the
exigencies of the situation. With a super-competent dare-devil
like myself in charge of affairs, all she had to do was to wait
and not get in the way.
'I didn't hit anybody,' I announced, 'but they ran like rabbits.
They are all over Hampshire.'
I laughed indulgently. I could afford an attitude of tolerant
amusement towards the enemy.
'Will they come back?'
'Possibly. And in that case'--I felt in my left-hand coat-pocket--'I
had better be getting ready.' I felt in my right-hand coat-pocket.
'Ready,' I repeated blankly. A clammy coldness took possession of me.
My voice trailed off into nothingness. For in neither pocket was
There a single one of the shells with which I had fancied that I
was abundantly provided. In moments of excitement man is apt to make
mistakes. I had made mine when, starting out on the sortie, I had
left all my ammunition in the house.
II
I should like to think that it was an unselfish desire to spare my
companions anxiety that made me keep my discovery to myself. But I
am afraid that my reticence was due far more to the fact that I
shrank from letting the Nugget discover my imbecile carelessness.
Even in times of peril one retains one's human weaknesses; and I
felt that I could not face his comments. If he had permitted a
certain note of querulousness to creep into his conversation
already, the imagination recoiled from the thought of the caustic
depths he would reach now should I reveal the truth.
I tried to make things better with cheery optimism.
'_They_ won't come back!' I said stoutly, and tried to believe it.
The Nugget as usual struck the jarring note.
'Well, then, let's beat it,' he said. 'I don't want to spend the
night in this darned icehouse. I tell you I'm catching cold. My
chest's weak. If you're so dead certain you've scared them away,
let's quit.'
I was not prepared to go as far as this.
'They may be somewhere near, hiding.'
'Well, what if they are? I don't mind being kidnapped. Let's go.'
'I think we ought to wait,' said Audrey.
'Of course,' I said. 'It would be madness to go out now.'
'Oh, pshaw!' said the Little Nugget; and from this point onwards
punctuated the proceedings with a hacking cough.
I had never really believed that my demonstration had brought the
siege to a definite end. I anticipated that there would be some
delay before the renewal of hostilities, but I was too well
acquainted with Buck MacGinnis's tenacity to imagine that he would
abandon his task because a few random shots had spread momentary
panic in his ranks. He had all the night before him, and sooner or
later he would return.
I had judged him correctly. Many minutes dragged wearily by
without a sign from the enemy, then, listening at the window, I
heard footsteps crossing the yard and voices talking in cautious
undertones. The fight was on once more.
A bright light streamed through the window, flooding the opening
and spreading in a wide circle on the ceiling. It was not
difficult to understand what had happened. They had gone to the
automobile and come back with one of the head-lamps, an astute
move in which I seemed to see the finger of Sam. The danger-spot
thus rendered harmless, they renewed their attack on the door with
a reckless vigour. The mallet had been superseded by some heavier
instrument--of iron this time. I think it must have been the jack
from the automobile. It was a more formidable weapon altogether
than the mallet, and even our good oak door quivered under it.
A splintering of wood decided me that the time had come to retreat
to our second line of entrenchments. How long the door would hold
it was impossible to say, but I doubted if it was more than a
matter of minutes.
Relighting my candle, which I had extinguished from motives of
economy, I caught Audrey's eye and jerked my head towards the
ladder.
'You go first,' I whispered.
The Nugget watched her disappear through the trap-door, then
turned to me with an air of resolution.
'If you think you're going to get _me_ up there, you've
another guess coming. I'm going to wait here till they get in, and
let them take me. I'm about tired of this foolishness.'
It was no time for verbal argument. I collected him, a kicking
handful, bore him to the ladder, and pushed him through the
opening. He uttered one of his devastating squeals. The sound
seemed to encourage the workers outside like a trumpet-blast. The
blows on the door redoubled.
I climbed the ladder and shut the trap-door behind me.
The air of the loft was close and musty and smelt of mildewed hay.
It was not the sort of spot which one would have selected of one's
own free will to sit in for any length of time. There was a rustling
noise, and a rat scurried across the rickety floor, drawing a
startled gasp from Audrey and a disgusted 'Oh, piffle!' from the
Nugget. Whatever merits this final refuge might have as a stronghold,
it was beyond question a noisome place.
The beating on the stable-door was working up to a crescendo.
Presently there came a crash that shook the floor on which we sat
and sent our neighbours, the rats, scuttling to and fro in a
perfect frenzy of perturbation. The light of the automobile lamp
poured in through the numerous holes and chinks which the passage
of time had made in the old boards. There was one large hole near
the centre which produced a sort of searchlight effect, and
allowed us for the first time to see what manner of place it was
in which we had entrenched ourselves. The loft was high and
spacious. The roof must have been some seven feet above our heads.
I could stand upright without difficulty.
In the proceedings beneath us there had come a lull. The mystery
of our disappearance had not baffled the enemy for long, for almost
immediately the rays of the lamp had shifted and begun to play on
the trap-door. I heard somebody climb the ladder, and the trap-door
creaked gently as a hand tested it. I had taken up a position beside
it, ready, if the bolt gave way, to do what I could with the butt of
my pistol, my only weapon. But the bolt, though rusty, was strong,
and the man dropped to the ground again. Since then, except for
occasional snatches of whispered conversation, I had heard nothing.
Suddenly Sam's voice spoke.
'Mr Burns!'
I saw no advantage in remaining silent.
'Well?'
'Haven't you had enough of this? You've given us a mighty good run
for our money, but you can see for yourself that you're through
now. I'd hate like anything for you to get hurt. Pass the kid
down, and we'll call it off.'
He paused.
'Well?' he said. 'Why don't you answer?'
'I did.'
'Did you? I didn't hear you.'
'I smiled.'
'You mean to stick it out? Don't be foolish, sonny. The boys here
are mad enough at you already. What's the use of getting yourself
in bad for nothing? We've got you in a pocket. I know all about that
gun of yours, young fellow. I had a suspicion what had happened,
and I've been into the house and found the shells you forgot to
take with you. So, if you were thinking of making a bluff in that
direction forget it!'
The exposure had the effect I had anticipated.
'Of all the chumps!' exclaimed the Nugget caustically. 'You ought
to be in a home. Well, I guess you'll agree to end this foolishness
now? Let's go down and get it over and have some peace. I'm getting
pneumonia.'
'You're quite right, Mr Fisher,' I said. 'But don't forget I still
have the pistol, even if I haven't the shells. The first man who
tries to come up here will have a headache tomorrow.'
'I shouldn't bank on it, sonny. Come along, kiddo! You're done. Be
good, and own it. We can't wait much longer.'
'You'll have to try.'
Buck's voice broke in on the discussion, quite unintelligible
except that it was obviously wrathful.
'Oh well!' I heard Sam say resignedly, and then there was silence
again below.
I resumed my watch over the trap-door, encouraged. This parleying,
I thought, was an admission of failure on the part of the
besiegers. I did not credit Sam with a real concern for my
welfare--thereby doing him an injustice. I can see now that he
spoke perfectly sincerely. The position, though I was unaware of
it, really was hopeless, for the reason that, like most positions,
it had a flank as well as a front. In estimating the possibilities
of attack, I had figured assaults as coming only from below. I had
omitted from my calculations the fact that the loft had a roof.
It was a scraping on the tiles above my head that first brought
the new danger-point to my notice. There followed the sound of
heavy hammering, and with it came a sickening realization of the
truth of what Sam had said. We were beaten.
I was too paralysed by the unexpectedness of the attack to form
any plan; and, indeed, I do not think that there was anything that
I could have done. I was unarmed and helpless. I stood there,
waiting for the inevitable.
Affairs moved swiftly. Plaster rained down on to the wooden floor.
I was vaguely aware that the Nugget was speaking, but I did not
listen to him.
A gap appeared in the roof and widened. I could hear the heavy
breathing of the man as he wrenched at the tiles.
And then the climax arrived, with anticlimax following so swiftly
upon it that the two were almost simultaneous. I saw the worker on
the roof cautiously poise himself in the opening, hunched up like
some strange ape. The next moment he had sprung.
As his feet touched the floor there came a rending, splintering
crash; the air was filled with a choking dust, and he was gone.
The old worn out boards had shaken under my tread. They had given
way in complete ruin beneath this sharp onslaught. The rays of the
lamp, which had filtered in like pencils of light through
crevices, now shone in a great lake in the centre of the floor.
In the stable below all was confusion. Everybody was speaking at
once. The hero of the late disaster was groaning horribly, for
which he certainly had good reason: I did not know the extent of
his injuries, but a man does not do that sort of thing with
impunity. The next of the strange happenings of the night now
occurred.
I had not been giving the Nugget a great deal of my attention for
some time, other and more urgent matters occupying me.
His action at this juncture, consequently, came as a complete and
crushing surprise.
I was edging my way cautiously towards the jagged hole in the
centre of the floor, in the hope of seeing something of what was
going on below, when from close beside me his voice screamed.
'It's me, Ogden Ford. I'm coming!' and, without further warning,
he ran to the hole, swung himself over, and dropped.
Manna falling from the skies in the wilderness never received a
more whole-hearted welcome. Howls and cheers and ear-splitting
whoops filled the air. The babel of talk broke out again. Some
exuberant person found expression of his joy in emptying his
pistol at the ceiling, to my acute discomfort, the spot he had
selected as a target chancing to be within a foot of where I
stood. Then they moved off in a body, still cheering. The fight
was over.
I do not know how long it was before I spoke. It may have been
some minutes. I was dazed with the swiftness with which the final
stages of the drama had been played out. If I had given him more
of my attention, I might have divined that Ogden had been waiting
his opportunity to make some such move; but, as it was, the
possibility had not even occurred to me, and I was stunned.
In the distance I heard the automobile moving off down the drive.
The sound roused me.
'Well, we may as well go,' I said dully. I lit the candle and held
it up. Audrey was standing against the wall, her face white and
set.
I raised the trap-door and followed her down the ladder.
The rain had ceased, and the stars were shining. After the
closeness of the loft, the clean wet air was delicious. For a
moment we stopped, held by the peace and stillness of the night.
Then, quite suddenly, she broke down.
It was the unexpectedness of it that first threw me off my balance.
In all the time I had known her, I had never before seen Audrey in
tears. Always, in the past, she had borne the blows of fate with a
stoical indifference which had alternately attracted and repelled
me, according as my mood led me to think it courage or insensibility.
In the old days, it had done much, this trait of hers, to rear a
barrier between us. It had made her seem aloof and unapproachable.
Subconsciously, I suppose, it had offended my egoism that she should
be able to support herself in times of trouble, and not feel it
necessary to lean on me.
And now the barrier had fallen. The old independence, the almost
aggressive self-reliance, had vanished. A new Audrey had revealed
herself.
She was sobbing helplessly, standing quite still, her arms hanging
and her eyes staring blankly before her. There was something in
her attitude so hopeless, so beaten, that the pathos of it seemed
to cut me like a knife.
'Audrey!'
The stars glittered in the little pools among the worn flagstones.
The night was very still. Only the steady drip of water from the
trees broke the silence.
A great wave of tenderness seemed to sweep from my mind everything
in the world but her. Everything broke abruptly that had been
checking me, stifling me, holding me gagged and bound since the
night when our lives had come together again after those five long
years. I forgot Cynthia, my promise, everything.
'Audrey!'
She was in my arms, clinging to me, murmuring my name. The
darkness was about us like a cloud.
And then she had slipped from me, and was gone.
Content of Part 2 - Peter Burns' Narrative: Chapter 15 [P G Wodehouse's novel: The Little Nugget]
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