Part 30 (1/2)

”'Look here,' I asked; 'it may seem an irrelevant question, but has the 2-th made any changes in its uniform lately?--any important changes, I mean.'

”'No: the War Office has been obliging enough to leave us alone in that respect: out of sight out of mind, I suppose. In point of fact we've kept the same rig--officers and men--for something like a quarter of a century.' He paused. 'I see what you're driving at. The man, you think, may be an old deserter!'

”'Not so fast, please. Now here's another question. You remember the night after the wreck of the _Nerbuddha_: the night you took a turn in Lansulyan Church, watching the bodies? You came to me in the morning with a story which I chose to laugh at--'

”'About the face at the window, you mean?' d.i.c.k gave a mock shudder.

'I suppose my nerves were shaken. I've been through some queer things since: but upon my soul I'd as soon face the worst of them again as take another spell with a line of corpses in that church of yours.'

”'But--the face?'

”'Well, at the time I'd have sworn I saw it: peering in through the last window westward in the south aisle--the one above the font. I ran out, you remember, and found n.o.body: then I fetched a lantern and flashed it about the churchyard.'

”'There were gravestones in plenty a man could hide behind. Should you remember the face?'

”d.i.c.k considered for a while. 'No: it didn't strike me as a face so much as a pair of eyes; I remember the eyes only. They were looking straight into mine.”

”'Well, now. I've always guessed there was something queer about that _Nerbuddha_ business: though till now I've never told a soul my chief reason for believing so. After you left me that night, and while I was dressing, it occurred to me from the last of the three signals--the only one I saw--that the wreck must be somewhere near the Carracks, and that Farmer Tregaskis had a seine-boat drawn up by the old pallace [1] at Gunner's Meadow, just opposite the Carracks.'”

”'It struck me that if it were possible to knock up Tregaskis and his boys and the farmhand who slept on the premises, and get this boat launched through the surf, we should reach the wreck almost as soon as the life-boat. So I took a lantern and ran across the fields to the farm. Lights were burning there in two or three windows, and Mrs.

Tregaskis, who answered my knock, told me that her husband and the boys had already started off--she believed for Gunner's Meadow, to launch their boat. There had been talk of doing so, anyhow, before they set out. Accordingly, off I pelted hot-foot for the meadow, but on reaching the slope above it could see no lanterns either about the pallace or on the beach. It turned out afterwards that the Tregaskis family had indeed visited the beach, ten minutes ahead of me, but judging it beyond their powers to launch the boat short-handed through the surf, were by this time on their way towards the Porth. I thought this likely enough at the time, but resolved to run down and make sure.

”'Hitherto I had carried my lantern unlit: but on reaching the coombe bottom I halted for a moment under the lee of the pallace-wall to strike a match. In that moment, in a sudden lull of the breakers, it seemed to me that I heard a footstep on the loose stones of the beach; and having lit my candle hastily I ran round the wall and gave a loud hail. It was not answered: the sound had ceased: but hurrying down the beach with my lantern held high, I presently saw a man between me and the water's edge. I believe now that he was trying to get away un.o.bserved: but finding this hopeless he stood still with his hands in his pockets, and allowed me to come up. He was bare-headed, and dressed only in s.h.i.+rt and trousers and boots. Somehow, though I did not recognise him, I never doubted for a moment that the man belonged either to my own or the next parish. I was a newcomer in those days, you remember.

”'”Hulloa!” said I, ”where do you come from?”'

”'He stared at me stupidly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the west. I inferred that he came from one of the sh.o.r.e-farms in that direction. He looked like a middle-aged farmer--a grizzled man with a serious, responsible face. ”But you're wet through,” I said, for his clothes were drenched.

”'For answer he pointed towards the surf, and lifting my lantern again, I detected a small cask floating a little beyond the breakers.

Now before coming to Lansulyan I had heard some ugly tales of the wrecking done in these parts, and at the sight of this I fairly lost my temper. 'It seems to me,' said I, ”a man of your age should be ashamed of himself, lurking here for miserable booty when there are lives to save! In G.o.d's name, if you have a spark of manhood in you, follow me to the Porth!” I swung off in a rage, and up the beach: after a moment I heard him slowly following. On the cliff track I swallowed down my wrath and waited for him to come up, meaning to expostulate more gently.

He did not come up. I hailed twice, but he had vanished into the night.

”'Now this looked ugly. And on reflection, when I reached the Porth and heard men wondering how on earth a fine s.h.i.+p found herself on Menawhidden in such weather, it looked uglier yet. The fellow--now I came to think it over--had certainly shrunk from detection.

Then, thirty hours later, came your story of the face, and upset me further. I kept my suspicions to myself, however. The matter was too grave for random talking: but I resolved to keep eyes and ears open, and if this horrible practice of wrecking did really exist, to expose it without mercy.

”'Well I have lived some years since in Lansulyan: and I am absolutely sure now that no such horrors exist, if they ever existed.'

”'But the man?' was d.i.c.k's query.

”'That's what I'm coming to. You may be sure I looked out for him: for, unlike you, I remembered the face I saw. Yet until to-day I have never seen it since.'

”'Until to-day?'

”'Yes. The man I saw on the beach was Miss Felicia's gardener, John Emmet. He has shaved his beard; but I'll swear to him.'

”All that d.i.c.k could do was to pull the pipe from his mouth and give a long whistle. 'But what do you make of it?' he asked with a frown.

”'As yet, nothing. Where does the man live?'

”'In a small cottage at the end of the village, just outside the gate of the kitchen-garden.'