Part 29 (2/2)
”Ten o'clock. At a quarter past eleven I think we may count upon something. The driver of Engine 123 has given me the word of an Irishman from County Kildare; and the stoker, a Cardiff man, and the guard, who hails from Sh.o.r.editch, are quite as keen as Kildare.”
”You're sending the stuff up North?”
”In the direction of the stretch of railway-line they're busy wrecking, in the hope that it may come in useful.”
”Weel, I will gie ye the guid wish that the affair may go off exactly as ye are hoping.”
”Thanks, Major! You could hardly word the sentence more happily.”
They exchanged a laugh as the Mayor bustled up, rubicund, important, and with a Member of the Committee to introduce.
”Colonel, you'll permit me to present Alderman Brooker, one of our most energetic and valued townsmen, President of the Gas Committee, and an a.s.sistant Borough Magistrate. One of Major Panizzi's Town Guardsmen. Was on sentry-go last night not far from here, and had a most extraordinary experience. Worth your hearing, if you can spare time to listen to my friend's account of it.”
”With pleasure, Mr. Mayor.”
Brooker, a stout and flabby man, with pouches under biliously tinged eyes, bowed and broke into a violent perspiration, not wholly due to the s.h.i.+ny black frock-coat suit of broadcloth donned for the occasion.
”Sir, I humbly venture to submit that I have been the victim of a conspiracy!”
”Indeed? Step this way, Mr. Brooker.”
Brooker, soothed by the courteous affability of the reception, his sense of importance magnified by being led aside, apart from the others, into the official privacy of the stoep-corner, began to be eloquent. He knew, he said, that the story he had to relate would appear almost incredible, but a soldier, a diplomat, a master of strategy, such as the personage to whom he now addressed himself, would understand--none better--how to unravel the tangled web, and follow up the clue to its ending in a den of secret, black, and midnight conspiracy. A blob of foam appeared upon his under-lip. He waved his hands, thick, short-fingered, clammy members....
”My story is as follows, sir....”
”I shall have pleasure in listening to it, Mr. Brooker, on condition that you will do me first the favour of listening to a story of mine?”
Deferred Brooker protested willingness.
”Last night, Mr. Brooker, at about eleven-thirty to a quarter to twelve, I was returning from a little tour of inspection”--the slight riding sjambok the Chief carried pointed over the veld to the northward--”out there, when, pa.s.sing the south angle of the enclosure of the Convent, where, by my special orders, a double sentry of the Town Guard had been posted, I heard a sound that I will endeavour to reproduce:
”_Gr'rumph! Honk'k! Gr'rumph!_”
Brooker bounded in his Oxford shoes.
The face upon which he glued his bulging eyes was grave to sternness. He stuttered, interrogated by the judicial glance:
”It--it sounds something like a snore.”
”It was a snore, Mr. Brooker, and it proceeded from one of the sentries upon guard.”
”Sir ... I ... I can expl----”
”Oblige me by not interrupting, Mr. Brooker. This sentry sat upon a short post, his back fitted comfortably into an angle of the Convent fence, his head thrown back, and his mouth wide open. From it, or from the organ immediately above, the snore proceeded. He was having a capital night's rest--in the Service of his Country. And as I halted in front of him, fixing upon him a gaze which was coldly observant, he s.h.i.+vered and ceased to snore, and said”:--the wretched Brooker heard his own voice, rendered with marvellous fidelity, speaking in the m.u.f.fled tone of the sleeper--”'_Annie, it's d.a.m.ned cold to-night; and you've got all the blanket._'”
”Sir ... sir!” The stricken Brooker babbled hideously.... ”Colonel ... for mercy's sake!...”
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