Chapter XVII Diamond Cut Diamond
Unconscious of the bo’sun’s melancholy reflections, Jack was hurrying toward the village. There he again hired the gig, and drove once more over the same road, leaving Middleton so as to reach the neighborhood of Luscombe about dusk. With him he took the iron steps.
He made his way with great caution to Gumley’s cottage. This time he did not hail the old sailor from the roadway, but got over the fence and tapped at the window. When he was admitted, he announced without preliminary the object of his visit.
“I want you to come and lend a hand, Gumley.”
“Might I axe how and wherefore, sir?”
“I’ll tell you that as we go along.”
“’Tis not to go back on old messmates, sir?”
“Your old messmates have gone back on you. But ’tis not that, and, anyway, I call upon you, Joe Gumley, in the king’s name—”
“Oh, if you put it like that, sir, I don’t axe no questions. The king’s name is enough for me.”
“I know it. Come along, and bring Comely with you.”
The three set out, Gumley curiously eying Jack’s bundle.
“We’re bound for Congleton’s Hollow, Gumley.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Any news since I saw you last?”
“Nary much, sir. Young Bill Gudgeon haven’t bin seen since. And the preventives have bin paying surprise visits down in the village.”
“That’s well. The smugglers won’t have dared to remove their cargo.”
“Ah! I knowed as how they’d made another run.”
“How did you know that? You keep yourself to yourself, you know.”
“True, sir. But old Gudgeon’s chimbleys do be uncommon foul, to be sure.”
“What’s that to do with it?”
“Why, sir, I were thinking that’s the only thing I’ve seed to-day. But he’ll soon be leaving off fires. Be you gwine to the Hollow by the lane, sir?”
“Yes. ’Tis a little longer way round, but I don’t want to meet anybody.”
“True, sir. Comely will give us good notice if any one is about.”
They came at length to the Hollow. Jack led the way through the trees to within a hundred yards of the tower, and searched the neighborhood thoroughly to make sure that no one was on the watch.
“Now, Gumley, I’m going up to the room at the top. Not through the door, but up the outside with the help of these steps.” He opened his bundle. “See, they fit into holes in the wall. Are you sailor enough still to come up after me and bring down the steps when I’ve got to the top?”
“Try me, sir. True, I’ve only one leg, but that’s sound; and my arms—look at ’em, sir.”
“That’s all right. When you’ve got the steps, hide in the bushes with Comely until you hear me whistle. Then you’ll come and take charge of a man I think you’ll find here.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
Jack mounted, Gumley after him. The latter removed the steps and disappeared into the thicket, while Jack closed the trap-door, and sat on the rickety chair, waiting.
Hours passed. It was very cold. Jack knew that De Fronsac would not leave the Grange until the family were asleep; he could only wait, wrapped up in his cloak, walking about quietly at intervals to keep himself awake.
At last he heard a slight click outside. Instantly he concealed himself in the hole behind the bedstead, leading to the staircase. To insure the full success of his plan it was necessary that the signaler should make his preparations undisturbed.
He heard some one enter the room by the trap-door, and immediately afterward saw a gleam of light. Peeping out, he recognized with a thrill that the intruder was De Fronsac, as he had expected, and that he was alone. He had lit the lamp, the glass of which was turned away from the window; the long roll of cardboard and a pistol lay beside it. Then he went to the window and looked out to sea. He was evidently waiting for a signal from the lugger.
“Peste!” he muttered, slapping his shoulders. “Comme il fait froid! Il est en retard. Quand viendra-t-il?”
Pistol in hand, Jack stepped quietly out of his hiding-place. De Fronsac started, swung round, and stared with amazement, for there, in the light of the lamp, stood the boy he had kidnapped, and a pistol was pointed full at his head.
“Yes, Monsieur de Fronsac, it is I. Stay where you are; if you make a movement I shall fire.”
The statement was so cool and matter-of-fact that it appeared to carry conviction, for De Fronsac arrested his first instinctive movement toward his own pistol. Still covering him with his weapon, Jack advanced to the table, turned the lamp so that the light fell on the Frenchman, and lifted the pistol. De Fronsac said not a word. There was no smile upon his face now, but his eyes gleamed, and Jack knew that he was watching for the slightest opening. De Fronsac felt the rope for a spy tightening relentlessly round his neck.
He glanced toward the lamp, within a few feet of him.
“No, Monsieur De Fronsac,” said Jack, guessing his wish to knock it over: “it really is not possible. You would not live to reach the table. You will now go through the trap-door and descend the steps, as quickly and quietly as you can.”
The man hesitated; Jack saw his fingers work nervously.
“I shall count three, Monsieur. At the word three I fire. One—”
De Fronsac moved sidewise toward the trap-door. At the opening he again paused, and appeared to be about to speak. But Jack gave him no opportunity.
“Again, Monsieur: one—two—”
De Fronsac pulled up the trap, and slowly lowered himself on to the topmost step.
“Remember, Monsieur,” said Jack, before his head disappeared, “if you make the least unnecessary sound I shall send a bullet after you.”
The gleaming eyes disappeared. Step by step the Frenchman descended. When he was a third of the way down Jack whistled gently. By the time De Fronsac reached the ground Gumley and Comely were one on each side of him.
“Evening, sir,” said Gumley. “Orders are that you come along wi’ me—and the dog. Watch him, Comely.”
A deep growl caused De Fronsac to start.
“Harmless as a lamb, sir, while you goes steady. Bean’t ’ee, Comely?”
The answer was another growl. They moved away, the dog keeping a few inches behind De Fronsac’s heels, Gumley with a naked cutlass walking at his right hand.
Even before they were out of sight Jack had returned to the table. There he had noticed a sheet of paper. It was covered with figures—no doubt the message that De Fronsac was preparing to send.
“Wonder if there’s time to make it out!” thought Jack. He looked out to sea; there was no signal light. With the aid of his key he scribbled below the figures the corresponding letters, and read:
NELSON A SUIVRE VILLENEUVE 9 NAVIRE 2 FREGATE SORTENT DE P MERCREDI BINSEY COVE LUNDI.
“A clever villain!” thought Jack. “Who would ever have imagined that a French spy would be mixed up with English smugglers! And I wonder how he gets his information about Nelson’s doings, and the sailings of English convoys? Well, his friends will have rather a different message to-night.”
He took from his pocket a piece of paper, and made some alterations in the figures he had written in the cabin of the Fury.
“If they like news of Nelson, they shall have some, invented on the spot!”
Every now and then while writing he glanced out to sea to make sure that he did not miss the expected signal. It was nearly an hour after he had completed his message that he caught the three successive flashes. Then he fixed the cardboard, pointed it through the round hole in the curtain, and signaled:
NELSON MOURANT A PALERMO NAVIRE BRISE PLAGE FOWEY CONVOI PETITE CHALOUPE BINSEY COVE LUNDI.
The message completed, he extinguished the light and descended, removing the steps as he went. The other set had apparently been taken by Gumley. Wrapping up the original dozen he started for his long walk back.
He had not gone many paces when he heard hurried footsteps behind. Turning round with a start, his hand on his pistol, he was amazed to hear his name called.
“Jack!”
The next instant a slight figure sprang toward him.
“Oh, Jack! I’m jolly glad, I am! I thought it was you, but couldn’t be sure till you came down. Oh, I am glad!”
“Well, don’t make a to-do, youngster. And what brings you out at this time of night?”
“Why, didn’t you tell me months ago to keep an eye on Fronsac? Well, I’ve done it. I’ve followed him several nights—not often, ’cos mostly I’m sleepy; but I’ve never caught him. He always disappeared, and I never knew where he went till to-night. And I shouldn’t have known now if I hadn’t seen him climb down the Folly and go off with old Gumley. Oh, it was fine! My eye! wasn’t he scared at the dog! But what’s it all mean, Jack? I say, you’ll come along home, won’t you? They’ll all be so jolly glad to see you.”
“Not to-night, Arthur. I hope I shall come to see you all in a day or two. But not a soul in the village must know yet that I’m back, and the maids couldn’t keep it in. Tell your father I’m here; and tell him that De Fronsac is a dangerous spy. We’ve got him safe now, but they mustn’t suspect in the village. If any questions are asked you can say that he has gone away for a few days, and will be back on Monday night.”
“Oh, I say, will they hang him?”
“Of course. Now cut and run; you’ll catch your death of cold, and the squire will want to hang me.”
“Not he. He likes you. So does—”
“Cut!” said Jack, putting an end to Arthur’s confidences. The boy disappeared; Jack resumed his walk, and arrived dead tired at the inn at Middleton.