The Borough Treasurer Read online

  CHAPTER XXIII

  COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY

  The tightening of that sinewy grip on Mallalieu's wrist so startled himthat it was only by a great effort that he restrained himself fromcrying out and from breaking into one of his fits of trembling. Thissudden arrest was all the more disturbing to his mental composurebecause, for the moment, he could not see to whom the hand belonged. Butas he twisted round he became aware of a tall, thin shape at his elbow;the next instant a whisper stole to his ear.

  "H'sh! Be careful!--there's men down there on the path!--they're verylike after you," said the voice. "Wait here a minute!"

  "Who are you?" demanded Mallalieu hoarsely. He was endeavouring to freehis wrist, but the steel-like fingers clung. "Let go my hand!" he said."D'ye hear?--let it go!"

  "Wait!" said the voice. "It's for your own good. It's me--Miss Pett. Isaw you--against that patch of light between the trees there--I knewyour big figure. You've got away, of course. Well, you'll not get muchfurther if you don't trust to me. Wait till we hear which way themfellows go."

  Mallalieu resigned himself. As his eyes grew more accustomed to thegloom of the wood, he made out that Miss Pett was standing just withinan opening in the trees; presently, as the voices beneath them becamefainter, she drew him into it.

  "This way!" she whispered. "Come close behind me--the house is closeby."

  "No!" protested Mallalieu angrily. "None of your houses! Here, I want tobe on the moors. What do you want--to keep your tongue still?"

  Miss Pett paused and edged her thin figure close to Mallalieu's bulkyone.

  "It'll not be a question of my tongue if you once go out o' this wood,"she said. "They'll search those moors first thing. Don't be afool!--it'll be known all over the town by now! Come with me and I'llput you where all the police in the county can't find you. But ofcourse, do as you like--only, I'm warning you. You haven't a cat'schance if you set foot on that moor. Lord bless you, man!--don't theyknow that there's only two places you could make for--Norcaster andHexendale? Is there any way to either of 'em except across the moors?Come on, now--be sensible."

  "Go on, then!" growled Mallalieu. Wholly suspicious by nature, he waswondering why this she-dragon, as he had so often called her, should beat all desirous of sheltering him. Already he suspected her of somedesign, some trick--and in the darkness he clapped his hand on thehip-pocket in which he had placed his revolver. That was safeenough--and again he thanked his stars that the police had not searchedhim. But however well he might be armed, he was for the time being inMiss Pett's power--he knew very well that if he tried to slip away MissPett had only to utter one shrill cry to attract attention. And so, muchas he desired the freedom of the moors, he allowed himself to be takencaptive by this gaoler who promised eventual liberty.

  Miss Pett waited in the thickness of the trees until the voices at thefoot of the Shawl became faint and far off; she herself knew well enoughthat they were not the voices of men who were searching for Mallalieu,but of country folk who had been into the town and were now returninghome by the lower path in the wood. But it suited her purposes to createa spirit of impending danger in the Mayor, and so she kept him there,her hand still on his arm, until the last sound died away. And while shethus held him, Mallalieu, who had often observed Miss Pett in herperegrinations through the Market Place, and had been accustomed tospeaking of her as a thread-paper, or as Mother Skin-and-Bones, becauseof her phenomenal thinness, wondered how it was that a woman of suchextraordinary attenuation should possess such powerful fingers--her gripon his wrist was like that of a vice. And somehow, in a fashion forwhich he could not account, especially in the disturbed and anxiousstate of his mind, he became aware that here in this strange woman wassome mental force which was superior to and was already dominating hisown, and for a moment he was tempted to shake the steel-like fingers offand make a dash for the moorlands.

  But Miss Pett presently moved forward, holding Mallalieu as a nursemight hold an unwilling child. She led him cautiously through the trees,which there became thicker, she piloted him carefully down a path, andinto a shrubbery--she drew him through a gap in a hedgerow, andMallalieu knew then that they were in the kitchen garden at the rear ofold Kitely's cottage. Quietly and stealthily, moving herself as if herfeet were shod with velvet, Miss Pett made her way with her captive tothe door; Mallalieu heard the rasping of a key in a lock, the lifting ofa latch; then he was gently but firmly pushed into darkness. Behind himthe door closed--a bolt was shot home.

  "This way!" whispered Miss Pett. She drew him after her along what hefelt to be a passage, twisted him to the left through another doorway,and then, for the first time since she had assumed charge of him,released his wrist. "Wait!" she said. "We'll have a light presently."

  Mallalieu stood where she had placed him, impatient of everything, butfeeling powerless to move. He heard Miss Pett move about; he heard thedrawing to and barring of shutters, the swish of curtains being pulledtogether; then the spurt and glare of a match--in its feeble flame hesaw Miss Pett's queer countenance, framed in an odd-shaped,old-fashioned poke bonnet, bending towards a lamp. In the graduallyincreasing light of that lamp Mallalieu looked anxiously around him.

  He was in a little room which was half-parlour, half bed-room. There wasa camp bed in one corner; there was an ancient knee-hole writing deskunder the window across which the big curtains had been drawn; therewere a couple of easy-chairs on either side of the hearth. There werebooks and papers on a shelf; there were pictures and cartoons on thewalls. Mallalieu took a hasty glance at those unusual ornaments andhated them: they were pictures of famous judges in their robes, and ofgreat criminal counsel in their wigs--and over the chimney-piece, framedin black wood, was an old broad-sheet, printed in big, queer-shapedletters: Mallalieu's hasty glance caught the staring headline--_DyingSpeech and Confession of the Famous Murderer_....

  "This was Kitely's snug," remarked Miss Pett calmly, as she turned upthe lamp to the full. "He slept in that bed, studied at that desk,and smoked his pipe in that chair. He called it hissanctum-something-or-other--I don't know no Latin. But it's a nice room,and it's comfortable, or will be when I put a fire in that grate, andit'll do very well for you until you can move. Sit you down--would youlike a drop of good whisky, now?"

  Mallalieu sat down and stared his hardest at Miss Pett. He felt himselfbecoming more confused and puzzled than ever.

  "Look here, missis!" he said suddenly. "Let's get a clear idea aboutthings. You say you can keep me safe here until I can get away. How doyou know I shall be safe?"

  "Because I'll take good care that you are," answered Miss Pett. "There'snobody can get into this house without my permission, and before I letanybody in, no matter with what warrants or such-like they carried, I'dsee that you were out of it before they crossed the threshold. I'm nofool, I can tell you, Mr. Mallalieu, and if you trust me----"

  "I've no choice, so it seems," remarked Mallalieu, grimly. "You've gotme! And now, how much are you reckoning to get out of me--what?"

  "No performance, no pay!" said Miss Pett. "Wait till I've managed thingsfor you. I know how to get you safely away from here--leave it to me,and I'll have you put down in any part of Norcaster you like, withoutanybody knowing. And if you like to make me a little present then----"

  "You're certain?" demanded Mallalieu, still suspicious, but glad towelcome even a ray of hope. "You know what you're talking about?"

  "I never talk idle stuff," retorted Miss Pett. "I'm telling you what Iknow."

  "All right, then," said Mallalieu. "You do your part, and I'll do minewhen it comes to it--you'll not find me ungenerous, missis. And I willhave that drop of whisky you talked about."

  Miss Pett went away, leaving Mallalieu to stare about him and tomeditate on this curious change in his fortunes. Well, after all, it wasbetter to be safe and snug under this queer old woman's charge than tobe locked up in Norcaster Gaol, or to be hunted about on the bleak moorsand possibly to go without food or drink. And his thoughts began toassum
e a more cheerful complexion when Miss Pett presently brought him astiff glass of undeniably good liquor, and proceeded to light a fire inhis prison: he even melted so much as to offer her some thanks.

  "I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, missis," he said, with an attempt atgraciousness. "I'll not forget you when it comes to settling up. But Ishould feel a good deal easier in my mind if I knew two things. First ofall--you know, of course, I've got away from yon lot down yonder, else Ishouldn't ha' been where you found me. But--they'll raise thehue-and-cry, missis! Now supposing they come here?"

  Miss Pett lifted her queer face from the hearth, where she had beenblowing the sticks into a blaze.

  "There's such a thing as chance," she observed. "To start with, how muchchance is there that they'd ever think of coming here? Next to none!They'd never suspect me of harbouring you. There is a chance that whenthey look through these woods--as they will--they'll ask if I've seenaught of you--well, you can leave the answer to me."

  "They might want to search," suggested Mallalieu.

  "Not likely!" answered Miss Pett, with a shake of the poke bonnet. "Buteven if they did, I'd take good care they didn't find you!"

  "Well--and what about getting me away?" asked Mallalieu. "How's that tobe done?"

  "I'll tell you that tomorrow," replied Miss Pett. "You make yourselfeasy--I'll see you're all right. And now I'll go and cook you a nicechop, for no doubt you'll do with something after all the stuff you hadto hear in the court."

  "You were there, then?" asked Mallalieu. "Lot o' stuff and nonsense! Asensible woman like you----"

  "A sensible woman like me only believes what she can prove," answeredMiss Pett.

  She went away and shut the door, and Mallalieu, left to himself, tookanother heartening pull at his glass and proceeded to re-inspect hisquarters. The fire was blazing up: the room was warm and comfortable;certainly he was fortunate. But he assured himself that the window wasproperly shuttered, barred, and fully covered by the thick curtain, andhe stood by it for a moment listening intently for any sound of movementwithout. No sound came, not even the wail of a somewhat strong windwhich he knew to be sweeping through the pine trees, and he came to theconclusion that the old stone walls were almost sound-proof and that ifhe and Miss Pett conversed in ordinary tones no eavesdroppers outsidethe cottage could hear them. And presently he caught a sound within thecottage--the sound of the sizzling of chops on a gridiron, and with itcame the pleasant and grateful smell of cooking meat, and Mallalieudecided that he was hungry.

  To a man fixed as Mallalieu was at that time the evening which followedwas by no means unpleasant. Miss Pett served him as nice a little supperas his own housekeeper would have given him; later on she favoured himwith her company. They talked of anything but the events of the day, andMallalieu began to think that the queer-looking woman was a remarkablyshrewd and intelligent person. There was but one drawback to hiscaptivity--Miss Pett would not let him smoke. Cigars, she said, might besmelt outside the cottage, and nobody would credit her with theconsumption of such gentleman-like luxuries.

  "And if I were you," she said, at the end of an interesting conversationwhich had covered a variety of subjects, "I should try to get a goodnight's rest. I'll mix you a good glass of toddy such as the late Kitelyalways let me mix for his nightcap, and then I'll leave you. The bed'saired, there's plenty of clothing on it, all's safe, and you can sleepas if you were a baby in a cradle, for I always sleep like a dog, withone ear and an eye open, and I'll take good care naught disturbs you, sothere!"

  Mallalieu drank the steaming glass of spirits and water which Miss Pettpresently brought him, and took her advice about going to bed. Withoutever knowing anything about it he fell into such a slumber as he hadnever known in his life before. It was indeed so sound that he neverheard Miss Pett steal into his room, was not aware that she carefullywithdrew the precious waistcoat which, through a convenient hole in thewall, she had watched him deposit under the rest of his garments on thechair at his side, never knew that she carried it away into theliving-room on the other side of the cottage. For the strong flavour ofthe lemon and the sweetness of the sugar which Miss Pett had put intothe hot toddy had utterly obscured the very slight taste of somethingelse which she had put in--something which was much stronger than thegenerous dose of whisky, and was calculated to plunge Mallalieu into astupor from which not even an earthquake could have roused him.

  Miss Pett examined the waistcoat at her leisure. Her thin fingers wentthrough every pocket and every paper, through the bank-notes, the scrip,the shares, the securities. She put everything back in its place, aftera careful reckoning and estimation of the whole. And Mallalieu was asdeeply plunged in his slumbers as ever when she went back into his roomwith her shaded light and her catlike tread, and she replaced thegarment exactly where she found it, and went out and shut the door aslightly as a butterfly folds its wings.

  It was then eleven o'clock at night, and Miss Pett, instead of retiringto her bed, sat down by the living-room fire and waited. The poke bonnethad been replaced by the gay turban, and under its gold and scarlet herstrange, skeleton-like face gleamed like old ivory as she sat there withthe firelight playing on it. And so immobile was she, sitting with hersinewy skin-and-bone arms lying folded over her silk apron, that shemight have been taken for an image rather than for a living woman.

  But as the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece neared midnight, MissPett suddenly moved. Her sharp ears caught a scratching sound on theshutter outside the window. And noiselessly she moved down the passage,and noiselessly unbarred the front door, and just as noiselessly closedit again behind the man who slipped in--Christopher, her nephew.