Part 46 (2/2)

The light in the cabin was faint; he determined to carry the canister on deck and examine it in the sunlight.

He picked his way up the ladder, and was just emerging from the hatch, when the sudden glare of the sun caused him to blink and then sneeze. He caught his toe on the last step, stumbled, dropped his prize, and fell forward on to the deck. The canister struck the step, jolted twice, plunged to the bottom with a smart thud--

There was a flash of jagged flame, a loud roar, a heave and crash of riven timbers--and the old hull had pa.s.sed from decay to annihilation.

This would seem a convenient moment for regulating our watches, which have gained considerably, and putting back the hands to half-past ten, at which hour the bells of St. Symphorian's, Troy, began to summon the town to wors.h.i.+p.

A few minutes later the town sallied forth in pairs and decorous excitement. It was dying to see Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' costume, and marched churchwards in haste. But to-day it halted for the most part at the church-porch, and went no further.

Who first whispered the news is disputed. It is conjectured that Mrs. Tripp, whose cow supplied ”The Bower” with milk, learnt the facts from the b.u.t.toned youth when she paid her professional call at 7.30 a.m.; but none knew for certain. I might here paint Mrs. Tripp full of tongues, and dress her up as ”Rumour,” after the best epic models; but in saying that she had the usual number of lips and hands, that her parents were respectable, and that she never shrieked from a lofty tower in her life, I only do her the barest justice.

This much is sure--that among the knot of loungers at the church-gate such sentences as the following pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth--

”Es et true, do'ee think?”

”Certain--carr'ge an' pair from Five Lanes las' night--not a word said.”

”My!”

”Ef so, this town's been purtily robbed.”

”That's a true word.”

Then this happened--

The Trojan in broadcloth heard, as he pa.s.sed, the words of the Trojan in corduroy; inquired, shook his head, and walked on; doubted; turned back to hear more; consulted his wife; and decided to go and see.

The consequence was that at ten minutes to eleven the stream of church-goers descending along the Parade was met by another stream rolling towards ”The Bower” and every moment gathering volume.

As there was no place of wors.h.i.+p in this direction, a conference followed the confluence. The churchgoers turned, joined the larger stream, and the whole flood poured uphill.

Outside ”The Bower” they halted for a moment. One tradesman, a furniture dealer, bolder than the rest, advanced to the front-door and knocked.

The boy in b.u.t.tons answered with a white face. In a moment the truth was out.

This whisper among the crowd grew to a murmur, the murmur to a roar.

In vain the church-bell tolled out the single note that summons the parson. The dismay of the cheated town waxed to hot indignation.

Even Miss Limpenny, issuing from her front door, heard the news, and returned in a stupor to watch matters from her bedroom window.

She had not missed a morning service for fourteen years.

Then as if by one impulse pa.s.sion gave way to action. Like an invading army the townspeople poured in at the gate, trampling the turf and crus.h.i.+ng the flower-beds. They forced the front door (whence the page fled, to hide in the cellar), pushed into the hall, swarmed into the drawing-room--upstairs--all over the house.

Only in the bedrooms were there signs of a hasty flight; but they were enough. The strangers had decamped. There was a pause of indecision, but for no long time.

”Sunday or no Sunday,” screamed the choleric upholsterer, ”every stick of mine will I take off this morning!”

He tucked up his sleeves, and, flinging open the French window of the drawing-room, caught up an arm-chair, and began to drag it out towards the lawn.

A cheer followed. The Trojan blood was up.

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