Chapter X: A Telegram From Bessington

For a moment Hermione wondered if she should wake Iza Marsh, the next she decided that perhaps, after all, Frank had returned to the smoking-room--for he always kept dreadfully late hours--and was probably reading there or had fallen asleep. So, tiptoeing downstairs, she hurried along the passage and flashed her lamp into the room, only to find it empty also. She went back to the hall where a quick glance showed her that his hat and coat had gone.

It was impossible that he could have seen the green light from his bedroom window, for it faced south instead of east like hers, and yet it was equally obvious that he had gone out, and there was only one place where he would be likely to go at that hour of the night. So, without pausing to consider the wisdom or otherwise of her action, she let herself out by the front door and once again set out for the half-mile walk to the old tower.

It was easier going now since it had been cleared and the moon showed intermittently between the clouds, so presently she found herself running, urged on by a nameless fear, an odd sensation that her journey would not end as tamely as it had done before, and wondering if, after all, it would have been wiser to have roused Phillimore and taken him with her. He, of course, had heard all about the smugglers' activities, and had tried at times to get into conversation with the taciturn police officer on guard. Phillimore, she reflected, as well as being an admirable butler was also a very decent man and would have been a tower of strength on such a lonely expedition as the present one. However, she had not sought his aid, and as it was too late to go back now, she had to make the best of it and trust to luck.

She gained the tower at length, took one glance out across the sea, and hearing and seeing nothing suspicious, she pushed open the old door, entered the room and flashed on her lamp. The next instant she had uttered a sharp cry, sprung across the dirty, dusty floor, and was down on her knees beside a prone figure that lay outstretched at the far end.

For one moment as she peered into Frank Daneham's face, she thought he was dead, but tearing open his coat and pressing her hand on his heart, she realized by the steady beat that what in her fright she had taken for death was only heavy sleep. She had even failed to hear--for fear had numbed her faculties--his rather stertorous breathing.

Reassured at last, she called his name, and getting no response, placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him.

That also proving unavailing, she tried to think what she ought to do, for it was obvious now that he had been drugged. Moreover, for the first time she saw something unnatural in his position. He seemed to be lying on his arms and hands, and a glance at his feet showed her a stout cord tied tightly round his ankles. Fear took hold of her.

Why on earth had she not brought Phillimore, or even Iza Marsh? And what would happen if the brutes who had done this to him should come back and find her? She would be utterly at their mercy.

However, there was not a sound in the place, which seemed to be deserted, and there was no throb from a returning motor-boat. Yet she did not like to leave him there while she ran back for help, and to sit as she was doing, idle, was out of the question.

A slight movement from the prostrate man gave her a sudden hope. Perhaps the drug was working off. She bent quickly over him.

"Frank! Frank! Wake up," she cried, and once more she shook him.

He muttered incoherently, shifted uneasily.

"Frank!" she raised her voice. "It is I, Hermione."

Perhaps it was her name that roused him, for he opened heavy eyes and stared up vacantly into her face.

"Hermione," he muttered, his voice thick and feeble. "When?--How?--" And then he tried to raise himself, but the effort was futile.

Instantly she took him by the shoulders and dragged him into a sitting posture, and under where his head had been for the first time she saw something lying. But she paid no heed to that for he had struggled feebly and she saw that his wrists, as his ankles, were tied with cord.

"My hands--" he muttered, thickly. "And, oh, Lord! my head--"

"Yes, dear, I know, and I want you to try and rouse yourself, and let me get you home. Is there a knife in your pockets?" She fumbled feverishly and found one at last and a moment later his hands were free. Then she set to work upon his ankles and finally put an arm about his shoulder.

"Do you think you could stand, if I helped you?" Fear of the return of those who had done this dastardly thing was again upon her, and to get away was all she asked.

"One--moment--" He tried to put a hand to his throbbing head, but his arms were numb and useless. She saw the effort and at once set to work to restore the circulation.

"You poor dear," she said, tenderly, as she saw the swollen wrists. "What brutes! What infamous brutes."

"N-no," he muttered. "It's--all coming--back. Good fellow--tell you--"

"Never mind that now, Frank," she urged. "You can tell me about it later. All I want is to get you home and to bed. I'm terrified that they'll come back and find us."

This seemed to penetrate to his fuddled understanding. His drugged senses were gradually clearing, and he made a valiant effort, and as she stopped massaging his arms he somehow got to his feet, and stood, swaying helplessly on her supporting arm. Then he glanced round. "They've--gone--" he muttered. "The--con--contraband, I mean."

"Never mind that, dear, let's get into the air," urged Hermione. But he pointed to the thing that had lain under his head, and seeing it she stooped and picked it up.

"Why, it's a bundle of silk stockings!" she cried, "and beauties, too. How did they come there? But never mind, you can tell me all about it afterwards."

"He--he--left them, for you," said Frank Daneham. And then he lurched out into the air, and she, with the stockings in one hand and her other arm round his body, wondered if she would ever be able to get him home. But she had to try, so she slowly piloted him over the soft grass and down to the pine wood.

"How did--you--" he was beginning, but she stopped him.

"Don't talk," she said. "Keep all your strength for getting back."

And so, in silence, the two of them made their difficult way back to the house. But it was long past three o'clock when Frank Daneham dropped heavily into an arm-chair in his bedroom and clasped his aching head, while Hermione, leaving him at last, ran to the servants' quarters to rouse Phillimore.

When he appeared a few moments later, clad in a dressing-gown, there was deep concern on his honest face.

"I'll get him into bed, ma'am, at once," he said, "and James can go for the doctor in the morning if he's no better, but if it's only a drug and he sleeps it off, he shouldn't take much harm."

By this, Iza Marsh, hearing the voices, was out in the passage, and as Phillimore was attending to Frank Daneham, Hermione poured her story into the elder woman's horrified ears.

"My dear child! How appalling!" she cried. "What on earth does it all mean? And what in the world took Frank up there at such an hour? Do you say you saw the green light? Then why in the name of all that's insane didn't you wake me and take me with you?"

"I didn't stop to think. I just had to go and look for him. But I don't even now know what happened. He was far too dazed and fuddled with that vile drug to tell me anything. He said something about the goods having gone, and that this bundle of silk stockings was given to me by someone. At any rate they are tangible enough." Iza Marsh took the bundle and looked them over.

"My dear child, I don't think you can have much doubt as to what happened. These are undoubtedly 'the goods', and whoever left this little lot for you, made you a very handsome present. I confess, I shall be glad to know the details."

There came the sound of a softly-closing door and Phillimore came towards them.

"Is he all right?" asked Hermione, anxiously.

"Sound asleep, ma'am. I am just going to get into my things, and then I'll stay with him in case he should wake and want anything."

"That's good of you, Phillimore," said Hermione, gratefully.

"Not at all, ma'am, only my duty. And you need not be at all anxious. I think he will just sleep it off and wake up as sound as ever. I suppose you will want to send a message to the police first thing?"

"No, don't do anything about that. Wait till I have heard from Mr. Daneham what happened. He will know what is best to be done. I don't want to be bothered by the police until I know what it all means. And, besides, they could do no good in any case, for there was no one there when I found Mr. Daneham. And whatever you do, Phillimore, don't say a word to the other servants."

"I won't, ma'am, as it would only scare them. And if I may presume to advise you, ma'am, as there is nothing more for you to worry about, you should try and get what sleep you can."

"Sound common sense, Phillimore," agreed Mrs. Marsh. "And I'll see that she does it. Come along, my dear, get your things off and hop into bed. Goodness only knows what we may be called upon to do to-morrow--I mean to-day, for it's nearly four o'clock now, mercy be good to us!"

Phillimore proved himself a true prophet, for, five hours later, barring a slight headache, Frank Daneham awoke not very much the worse for his night's adventures, and joined the two women at breakfast downstairs.

The first thing he did was to take Hermione by both hands.

"You plucky little woman," he said, huskily. "Phillimore has been telling me what happened, for honestly I had no recollection of anything until he told me and then it all came back clearly, and I am filled with gratitude and amazement at what you did for me."

"When all the time she deserves a sound whipping for her crass folly in going by herself and not taking Phillimore, or at worst, me with her," struck in Iza Marsh, with, however, a glance at the girl that utterly belied her words.

"Oh, never mind about me! Tell us what happened," cried Hermione. "I am more thankful than I can say that you are all right, Frank. But what on earth made you go there last night, and when did you go? No, drink this coffee first before you speak. It is the very best thing for you, I know."

A moment later he set down his empty cup, and then proceeded to tell them in detail all that had happened, from the moment when he, too, had seen the light, until the administration of the drug by the engaging young smuggler. And to it all the two women listened in enthralled silence.

"A remarkable chap, really," he ended, musingly, "and even now I can't say whether we are on the right track with regard to that bit of paper or not. He dropped it, certainly, owned to it, but when I asked him outright about poor old Dominic, he denied all knowledge of him."

"He may have lied," said Hermione, bitterly; "after all, he treated you abominably and may be capable of anything."

"No, in fairness I can't say that he did that," objected Daneham. "He had to make himself safe, and he might have knocked me out instead of drugging me, there was nothing to prevent him once he had me tied up. But I'll admit that, even in the drugging, he took no chances, for though I had said I would take it--having no other choice, you understand--he made sure that I did take it, for he tilted my head back, confound him! and just as I was smiling at something he had said, poured the stuff into my mouth, so that I had either to swallow it or choke.

"But, by Jove, he was a pleasant beggar, and spoke good English, too. I would have given anything to have seen his face, but he took devilish good care I shouldn't. And then those stockings, you know. Confounded cheek, wasn't it?"

"Personally, I could do with quite a lot of that kind of cheek," observed Iza, dryly. "And what, by the way, are you going to do with your present, my dear?"

"Well, as Frank was apparently taken with this young man, I suppose really he can't have been as bad as I thought," admitted Hermione with a smile "So I shall keep one pair, to show that I bear no malice, and you can have the rest, darling."

"Well, I'm sure that's very generous of you, child," said the other, "and I'll make a point of wearing 'em whenever I go abroad. It will give me the greatest pleasure to sport them when I go through the Customs, and I'll wear a new pair at every port in the British Isles. That'll teach 'em to put a heavy tax on indispensable clothing, drat 'em. I take off my hat to that young man, I'll tell you that. The only thing that puzzles me is how he got all that contraband, which you saw, out of the place."

"Ah, you may well say that," agreed Daneham. "How indeed? It was on that account, of course, that the young beggar drugged me, so that I shouldn't see his dodge. I have a hazy remembrance of hearing a car, but it is too hazy to be of any use."

"But there was no car there or any signs of one," said Hermione.

"I know. I asked Phillimore if he heard one, and he said he certainly heard what he thought was a car going rapidly along the road to Ardenmore station at about one o'clock. But he certainly did not hear one going in the opposite direction before that. However, we shall know soon, for he is going over to the farm to ask there. They know of all the cars or carts that pass along the road, for, situated on that hill as they are, nothing can escape them."

"They might not have been looking at the time," suggested Iza Marsh.

"Oh yes," replied Hermione. "I was over there only yesterday and saw Mackenzie's old mother who sits in her window all day and never misses a thing. And as her window is open at night and she sleeps very badly, she is bound to have heard one if it passed."

Which surmise indeed proved to be true, for Phillimore announced shortly after that, having gone to the farm himself to make inquiries, he was informed that old Mrs. Mackenzie had heard the car pass at about one o'clock, going towards the station, but that she was certain no car went the other way either before or afterwards. And she wondered where it came from, for she did not think it would be the Ardenmore House car at that time of night.

"Did she say if she had ever heard it before?" asked Daneham eagerly of Hermione.

"Oh yes, frequently. That is what started the gossip about the ghost car coming from nowhere. But, of course, no one really believed her, for, as Mr. Mackenzie pointed out, if it came back it would either have to go right into the sea in order to disappear, or else it would be found somewhere on the premises, and no one has ever found it."

"That being so it looks as though we shall have to wait some time for its return," said Hermione, "for it is only periodically that the old woman hears it. Therefore there is surely no necessity to tell the police yet."

To this Daneham agreed, and gave instructions accordingly to Phillimore.

When they were once more alone, Hermione turned impulsively to her two friends.

"If that car was heard going away last night," she said, "it means that the Frenchman has taken those things to distribute among his customers. It also means that he will be coming back to hide the car--wherever he does hide it."

"Not if it's true that he has done with smuggling here," objected Daneham. "He would simply take it by sea over to France."

"But do you believe that?"

"Not for a moment. It's too paying a game to drop so lightly. I believe that was merely a blind, to try and induce me to give up watching for him. I don't believe a fellow of his type could voluntarily give up his criminal career and live quietly on the proceeds, whatever the inducement. When he does it will only be when he's caught and lodged in gaol. My own opinion is that we shall probably meet again--as he suggested--under happier conditions for me, anyway. That is if in the meantime he doesn't make the acquaintance of Madame Guillotine."

"Good gracious, Frank," exclaimed Iza. "Is he as bad as that?"

"Who knows? He is, I should say, capable of any extremes. A fellow like that can be as good a friend as he is a bad enemy. Personally, I'd sooner be his friend, for I have an odd sort of feeling that he would go to any length for a pal. However, this is all surmise. What I believe to be fact is that one day he'll be back again, for his hiding-place is so secure that with a confederate to warn him he will feel perfectly safe to carry on. So it's up to us to discover that hiding-place."

"I honestly think it is far more important to find out who is keeping him informed here," said Hermione, and to this Iza Marsh emphatically agreed. It seemed also to all three that unless a miracle happened, the mystery of that date on the scrap of paper would in all likelihood remain a mystery.

An hour later a telegram arrived for Hermione--the advent of which altered the course of events for all of them.

She tore it open and read aloud to her two friends the message written there.

"May I come over and see you? Staying at the Glen, Locharbie. Dick."

She looked appealingly to Frank.

"Hang the fellow, what does he want?" he growled.

"Better let him come," advised Iza. "There's some reason, or he wouldn't break his compact."

"I agree," said Frank with a frown, as he thought of the bit of paper which had been shown by Mackay to Dick Bessington. "Better to know what he is doing than shut him out and live in ignorance as to his movements."

So the reply was dispatched in two words only:

"Yes, Hermione."