Part 4 (1/2)
”What train might you have been on?” the woman continued. ”There's none due on this line that we knew of. David Ba.s.s, the station-master, was here but two hours ago and said he'd finished for the night, and praised the Lord for that. The goods trains had all been stopped at Ipswich, and the first pa.s.senger train was not due till six o'clock.”
Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness.
”I don't know,” he replied. ”I don't remember anything about it. We were hours late, I think.”
The woman was looking down at the unconscious man. Gerald rose slowly to his feet and stood by her side. The face of Mr. John P. Dunster, even in unconsciousness, had something in it of strength and purpose. The shape of his head, the squareness of his jaws, the straightness of his thick lips, all seemed to speak of a hard and inflexible disposition. His hair was coal black, coa.r.s.e, and without the slightest sprinkling of grey. He had the neck and throat of a fighter. But for that single, livid, blue mark across his forehead, he carried with him no signs of his accident.
He was a little inclined to be stout. There was a heavy gold chain stretched across his waist-coat. From where he lay, the s.h.i.+ning handle of his revolver protruded from his hip, pocket.
”Sakes alive!” the woman muttered, as she looked down. ”What does he carry a thing like that for--in a peaceful country, too!”
”It was just an idea of his,” Gerald answered. ”We were going abroad in a day or two. He was always nervous. If you like, I'll take it away.”
He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man's pocket. He started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber.
”I can't bear the sight of them things,” the woman declared. ”It's the men of evil ways, who've no trust in the Lord, who need that sort of protection.”
They heard the door pushed open, the howl of wind down the pa.s.sage, and the beating of rain upon the stone flags. Then it was softly closed again. The landlord staggered into the room, followed by a young man.
”This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer,” he announced. ”You can tell him what you want yerself.”
Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer.
”I want to go to the other side of Holt,” he said, ”and get my friend--get this gentleman away from here--get him home, if possible.
Can you take me?”
The chauffeur looked doubtful.
”I'm afraid of the roads, sir,” he replied. ”There's talk about many bridges down, and trees, and there's floods out everywhere. There's half a foot of water, even, across the village street now. I'm afraid we shouldn't get very far.”
”Look here,” Gerald begged eagerly, ”let's make a shot at it. I'll pay you double the hire of the car, and I'll be responsible for any damage.
I want to get out of this beastly place. Let's get somewhere, at any rate, towards a civilised country. I'll see you don't lose anything.
I'll give you a five pound note for yourself if we get as far as Holt.”
”I'm on,” the young man agreed shortly. ”It's an open car, you know.”
”It doesn't matter,” Gerald replied. ”I can stick it in front with you, and we can cover--him up in the tonneau.”
”You'll wait until the doctor comes back?” the landlord asked.
”And why should they?” his wife interposed sharply. ”Them doctors are all the same. He'll try and keep the poor gentleman here for the sake of a few extra guineas, and a miserable place for him to open his eyes upon, even if the rest of the roof holds, which for my part I'm beginning to doubt. They'd have to move him from here with the daylight, anyhow. He can't lie in the bar parlour all day, can he?”
”It don't seem right, somehow,” the man com plained doggedly. ”The doctor didn't say anything about having him moved.”
”You get the car,” Gerald ordered the young man. ”I'll take the whole responsibility.”
The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of sovereigns upon the mantelpiece.
”My friend is a man of somewhat peculiar temperament,” he said quietly.