Part 7 (1/2)
”What is it, sir? A rug?”
”Rug! Great Scott, man, don't you know a woman's hair when you see it?”
”I've never--er--never seen it--you might say--just like that. Is it _hair_?”
”It is. You _do_ see it, don't you?”
”How did it get there?”
”Good! Now I know I'm not dreaming. Come! There's no time to be lost.
We may be able to get up there before she hears us!”
I was through the window and half way across the room before his well-meant protest checked me.
”For heaven's sake, Mr. Smart, don't be too hasty. We can't rush in upon a woman unexpectedly like this. Who knows? She may be entirely--”
He caught himself up sharply, blinked, and then rounded out his sentence in safety with the word ”deshabille.”
I was not to be turned aside by drivel of that sort; so, with a scornful laugh, I hurried on and was soon in the courtyard, surrounded by at least a score of persons who madly inquired where the fire was, and wanted to help me to put it out. At last we managed to get them back at their work, and I instructed old Conrad to have the tallest ladder brought to me at once.
”There is no such thing about the castle,” he announced blandly, puffing away at his enormous pipe. His wife shook her head in perfect serenity.
Somewhat dashed, I looked about me in quest of proof that they were lying to me. There was no sign of anything that even resembled a ladder.
”Where are your sons?” I demanded.
The old couple held up their hands in great distress.
”Herr Britton has them working their souls out, turning a windla.s.s outside the gates--ach, that terrible invention of his!” groaned old Conrad. ”My poor sons are faint with fatigue, mein herr. You should see them perspire,--and hear them pant for breath.”
”It is like the blowing of the forge bellows,” cried his wife. ”My poor little boys!”
”Fetch them at once Conrad,” said I, cudgelling my brain for a means to surmount a present difficulty, and but very slightly interested in Britton's n.o.ble contraption.
The brothers soon appeared and, as if to give the lie to their fond parents, puffed complacently at their pipes and yawned as if but recently aroused from a nap. Their sleeves were rolled up and I marvelled at the size of their arms.
”Is Britton dead?” I cried, suddenly cold with the fear that they had mutinied against this brusque English overlord.
They smiled. ”He is waiting to be pulled up again, sir,” said Max. ”We left him at the bottom when you sent for us. It is for us to obey.”
Of course, everything had to wait while my obedient va.s.sals went forth and reeled the discomforted Britton to the top of the steep. He sputtered considerably until he saw me laughing at him. Instantly he was a valet once more, no longer a crabbed genius.
I had thought of a plan, only to discard it on measuring with my eye the distance from the ground to the lowest window in the east wing, second floor back. Even by standing on the shoulders of Rudolph, who was six feet five, I would still find myself at least ten feet short of the window ledge. Happily a new idea struck me almost at once.
In a jiffy, half a dozen carpenters were at work constructing a substantial ladder out of scantlings, while I stood over them in serene command of the situation.
The Schmicks segregated themselves and looked on, regarding the window with sly, furtive glances in which there was a distinct note of uneasiness.
At last the ladder was complete. Resolutely I mounted to the top and peered through the sashless window. It was quite black and repelling beyond. Instructing Britton and the two brothers to follow me in turn, I clambered over the wide stone sill and lowered myself gingerly to the floor.
I will not take up the time or the s.p.a.ce to relate my experiences on this first fruitless visit to the east wing of my abiding place. Suffice to say, we got as far as the top of the stairs in the vast middle corridor after stumbling through a series of dim, damp rooms, and then found our way effectually blocked by a stout door which was not only locked and bolted, but bore a most startling admonition to would-be trespa.s.sers.