_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. AT THE SILENT DOCK
Even as Percy Guest rushed at his friend's door to bring one foot against the lock with all his might, he felt the futility of the proceeding. For he knew how solid the old oak outer panels had been made; but he did not pause, and as his foot struck against it there was a dull sound--nothing more.
Guest drew back again, fully impressed by the hopelessness of his proceedings, for the outer door opened toward him, and the effect of his next thrust was only to drive it against the jamb.
He was recoiling again, with his muscles quivering from the violence of his efforts, when Miss Jerrold caught his arm.
"Mr Guest," she said firmly, "this is madness. You will bring a crowd of people about us, and only workmen could open that door."
Guest hesitated a moment or two.
"Stop!" he said. "His friend, Mr Brettison, is in the next chambers, perhaps. I'll go and see."
"Come, Rebecca," said the admiral scornfully; "we have no business here."
He held out his arm, but his sister thrust it away.
"Yes; we have business here," she said. "If, as Mr Guest suspects, some accident has befallen Malcolm Stratton, would you care to meet Myra without having been there?"
She whispered this to her brother while Guest had gone to Brettison's door, at which he knocked sharply.
The admiral turned fiercely upon his sister, but she did not shrink.
"You know it's right," she said. "Be reasonable, Mark. Malcolm Stratton could not have insulted us all like this."
"I can't make him hear," said Guest, after a second sharp summons at Brettison's door. "I must fetch up a carpenter and make him force open this door."
"You have no right to proceed to such violent measures, Mr Guest."
"Then I shall assume the right, sir. I believe that my friend lies behind that door wounded or murdered for the sake of the money he had ready for his wedding trip, and do you think I am going to stand on punctilio at a time like this?"
Miss Jerrold looked very white and faint as she said quietly:
"He is quite right, Mark."
"Get workmen, then, in Heaven's name, sir, or the police."
Guest took a step toward the stairs, but turned again.
"I don't like the _expose_, sir," he said sharply. "There might be reasons why I should repent going."
"But you must have that door opened at once," cried Sir Mark, now once more growing excited, as if Guest's manner were contagious.
Guest drew his hand over the door in search of a hold to try and drag it toward him, ending by thrusting it in by the letter slit and giving it a vigorous shake.
He withdrew it, shaking his head, and paused, for steps were heard. But they passed the doorway at the bottom of the building and died away, while, as he listened, all seemed to be silent upstairs and down.
"We must have a carpenter," he said aloud; and, once more placing his ear to the letter slit, he listened, and then came away to where Sir Mark stood.
"I'm certain I heard breathing within there," he whispered. "Someone is listening, and I'm sure there is something wrong; but I don't like to leave you here alone, Sir Mark."
"Why?"
"In case some scoundrel should make a sudden rush out and escape."
"Fetch a policeman," said Sir Mark sturdily. "Let him try it while you are gone."
At that moment, Guest uttered an eager cry, and thrust his hand into his pocket.
"I'd forgotten that," he said, in answer to Miss Jerrold's inquiring look; "and I don't know now that it will fit."
He had taken out his latchkey on the chance of that which fitted the lock of one set of chambers fitting that of another, and, thrusting it into the keyhole, he was in the act of turning it when, as if someone had been listening to every word and act, a bolt was suddenly shot back, and the door thrown open against Guest's chest. He started back in astonishment, for there, in the dark opening, stood Malcolm Stratton, his face of a sickly sallow, a strange look in his eyes, and a general aspect of his having suddenly turned ten years older, startling all present.
"What do you want?" he said harshly.
The question was so sudden that Guest was stunned into muteness, but the admiral stepped forward fiercely.
"You--you despicable scoundrel!" he roared; and as Stratton stepped back the old man followed him quickly into the room, and caught him by the throat.
"Mark! Mark!" cried Miss Jerrold, following to seize her brother's arm, while Guest, relieved beyond measure at finding his friend in the flesh, instead of his murderer, hurriedly entered and closed the outer door.
"Stand aside, woman!" cried the admiral, fiercely wresting himself free in ungovernable rage on seeing the man who had caused the morning's trouble standing there unharmed. The fact of Stratton being uninjured and making so insulting a demand half maddened him, and, seizing his collar, he was bearing him back, when Guest interposed, and separated them.
"This will do no good, Sir Mark," he cried. "For everybody's sake, sir, be calm."
"Calm!" roared the old sailor furiously.
"Yes, Mark, calm," whispered his sister, clinging to him firmly. "Is it the act of an officer and a gentleman to behave like this?"
"You don't know--you cannot feel as I do," he raged.
"For Myra's sake," whispered Miss Jerrold quickly; and the old man made an effort and calmed down.
"Let him explain then. Let him say what it means. A public insult. To be degraded like this. And after what is past."
Meanwhile Stratton was looking wildly about him. The sweat stood in great drops upon his haggard face, and he trembled violently, though it was apparent to his friend that he was fighting hard to be composed.
Guest turned to Sir Mark.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "There must, as I have said, be good reasons for poor Stratton's actions. Pray be patient with him. You see, sir-- you see, Miss Jerrold, he is ill and suffering. Now, Stratton, for Heaven's sake speak out. You must explain. Tell Sir Mark what it is."
"Take them away," said Stratton in a hoarse whisper; "take them away."
"Yes, yes, but say something. What is it--some sudden attack? Come, man, don't look at me in that ghastly way; are you ill?"
"No--no. I don't know," faltered Stratton.
"Then you must have some explanation to make."
"No--no. None. Go!"
"Mark--my dear brother," whispered Miss Jerrold.
"Flesh and blood can't stand it, girl," he panted, with the veins in his temples purple; and snatching himself away, he thrust Guest aside and once more seized Stratton--this time by the arms.
"Now, sir," he said hoarsely, "I know I ought to leave you in contempt for your cursed shilly-shallying, pusillanimous conduct, but with my poor child's agonised past before me, I can't behave as a polished gentleman should."
Stratton glared at him in silence, with the pallor increasing, and his face assuming a bluish-grey tinge.
"I came here believing--no, trying to believe--that you had been taken ill; that there was good reason for my child being once more exposed to a cruel public shame that must make her the byword of society. I ask you for an explanation, and in this cursedly cool way you say you have none to offer. You are not ill; you have not, as we feared, been attacked for your money, for there it lies on the table. There is nothing wrong, then, with you, and--good God! what's this?"
He started away in horror, for the hand he had in his anger shifted to Stratton's shoulder was wet, and, as he held it out, Miss Jerrold uttered a faint cry, for it was red with blood; and, released from the fierce grasp which had held him up, Stratton swayed forward, reeled, and fell with a crash on to the carpet.
"He's hurt. Wounded," cried Guest, dropping on one knee by his friend's side, but only to start up and dash into the adjoining room, to come back directly with basin, sponge, and water.
"Damn!" raged the admiral, "what a brutal temper I have. Poor lad! poor lad! Fetch a doctor, Guest. No. That's right, sponge his temples, 'Becca. Good girl. Don't fetch a doctor yet, Guest. I am a bit of a quack. Let me see."
He went behind the prostrate man, who lay perfectly insensible, and kept on talking hurriedly as he took out a penknife and used it freely to get at the injury in the shoulder.
"Why didn't he speak? You were right, then, Guest. Some scoundrel has been here. Curse him! we'll have him hung. To be sure--a bullet gone right through here--no; regularly ploughed his flesh. Thank Heaven! not a dangerous wound. I can bandage it. But too much for a bridegroom. Poor lad! poor lad!"
He tore up his own handkerchief and made a pad of his sister's, but these were not enough. "Look here, Rebecca," he said; "you'd better go and leave us."
"Nonsense!" said the lady sternly. "Go on with your work, and then a doctor must be fetched."
"Very well, then, if you will stay. There, don't try to revive him yet. Let's finish. Guest, my lad, take that knife and slit one of the sheets in the next room; then tear off a bandage four inches wide and as long as you can. Let's stop the bleeding, and he won't hurt."
All was done as he ordered, and the bandage roughly fixed, Stratton perfectly insensible the while.
"'Becca, my dear--Guest, my lad," said the admiral huskily. "Never felt so sorry in my life." Then, taking Stratton's hand between both his own, he said, in a low voice, "I beg your pardon, my lad, humbly."
"I don't like this long insensibility, Mark," said Miss Jerrold.
"No; it's too long. Has he any rum or brandy in the place?"
"Yes," said Guest eagerly, and he hurried to the door of the bath-closet, and turned the handle, but it was locked. "How tiresome!" he muttered. "Here, I know."
He dropped quickly on one knee by his friend, and thrust a hand into his coat pocket for his bunch of keys; when his hand came in contact with something, which he drew out with an ejaculation, and looked up at Sir Mark.
"A pistol!" said the latter, and they stared in each other's eyes, just as Stratton began to show signs of recovery.
"Why has he a pistol?" whispered Miss Jerrold; and her brother's whole manner changed.
"I was thinking that you ought to have fetched the police at once, my lad," he said; "but it's as well you did not. There are things men like hushed up."
"I--I--don't know what you mean," faltered Miss Jerrold, while Guest slowly laid the weapon on the table, looking ghastly pale, and feeling a sensation of heart-sickness and despair.
"Plain enough," said the admiral coldly. "There is something more, though, behind. Do you know what?" he cried sternly, as he fixed Guest with his eyes.
"On my honour, no, Sir Mark."
"It does not matter to us."
"But it does, Mark," cried Miss Jerrold piteously; "and I am confused. What does it all mean?"
"Heaven and the man himself alone know."
"But, Mark, dear; I cannot understand."
"Not with this before you plainly stamped," said the admiral bitterly. "Some old trouble--a lady, I suppose--men are all alike--there was an _expose_ imminent, I expect, and he sought a way out of it--the coward's way, and was too great a cur to take aim straight."
They all looked down in horror at Stratton, where he lay, to see that he was now sensible to their words, and glaring wildly from face to face. _