Murder in the Night (Musaicum Vintage Mysteries). Arthur Gask

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ get tired, and if the rope holds on no one will be a penny the worse, and, besides, it will be a good lesson to the deacon not to leave his poor old frightened mother alone in the chaise again.

      What would ultimately have happened goodness only knows, but suddenly there was a rush and a shout behind me. I was knocked down roughly into the road, and a man sprang over me to the horse's head.

      Almost in a second it seemed he had seized hold of the bridle, and long before I had got on my feet he had secured the brute firmly, and was gently soothing and patting it back to a quiet state.

      Something in the man's voice seemed familiar to me, and, clearing my smarting eyes of dust, I saw to my disgust that it was Waller. Waller of all people, to have witnessed my cowardice. What a tale he would be making of it at the office! What humiliation for me again tomorrow.

      They all crowded round to thank him, and I saw old Mrs. Brown, whom he apparently knew, introduce him to Lucy. Lucy impulsively clasped his outstretched hand in both of hers and, with her sweet and gentle face uplifted, said something that wreathed his face in a broad, self-satisfied, and delighted smirk.

      My one piece of good fortune was that for the moment everyone had forgotten me, and taking advantage of their absorbed interest in the wretched Waller, I slunk away home, unnoticed and unmissed.

      Monday was again a black day with me in the office, and I sensed instinctively that things had come almost to a head.

      In the morning complaint was made to me about the noise in our room. A sarcastic message was sent in from the counting house that, if we didn't mind, they would like sometimes to be able to hear themselves speak.

      In the afternoon Mr. William had suddenly interrupted a game of darts. From the interested comments of the room generally I gathered that the game had just reached a most exciting stage. Waller was 'two up,' but Muggins had still 'three to play.' The firm's penholders made excellent darts, and with the end nicely split to hold a steadying length of paper good hits were being obtained upon the target, on the back of the country ledger.

      Mr. William had not said much, but he had given me a quick, stern look and I had shivered in my shoes.

      That evening I returned home almost bowed down with grief. My nerves were strung up almost to breaking point.

      I had just reached the garden gate when Mrs. Bratt came out of the hall door. She was red-eyed and had been crying.

      "He's dead," she called out directly she caught sight of me. "He's dead—poor old Captain Barker."

      "Dead," I repeated numbly. "My God! When did he die?"

      "Just after his dinner," she half sobbed. "He said he wasn't well and would lay down a bit. I helped him to the bed and he just fell back straight off and was gone. The doctor's been and he's to be buried tomorrow. I'm going to see about it now. Oh! Mr. Wacks, isn't it terrible—he's been with me over eight years and I'll never have another lodger like him. I've put your things all ready and you've only got to make the tea. I shan't be gone an hour. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, but I'm so upset I can't think of things properly," and she went off with her handkerchief to her eyes.

      For a moment or two I hesitated to enter the silent house. I was as frightened of the dead as of the living, and the thought of the dead body, all alone there on the bed, filled me with horror. I tiptoed quickly through the hall and shut myself up closely in the kitchen. I wasn't in the mood for any tea; I felt too miserable for anything. Poor old Captain Barker. How many, many nights I must have played with him and, on the whole, how nice he had always been to me. It was only the brandy that made him swear at me and call me names.

      Poor old fellow, but what a lonely life his had been. Well, he was dead now, and all his troubles were over. I wished I were dead, too. Anything to get out of all my worry.

      I would have gladly killed myself if I had known how, and then my thoughts went in a flash to the little brown jar in the box. What a strange tale it was he had told me! Could it by any means have been true? He must have believed it himself, for he had been in deadly earnest and all the time I had known him I had never found him to exaggerate in anything. What if I had taken a taste when he offered it me? What if I took some now? I could feel my heart jump at the thought, and I had to stand up to get my breath. Why shouldn't I at any rate get hold of the jar? No one knew of its existence yet, except myself, and no one need ever know. At any rate, I could get it now and think over later about using it. But I must get it at once, whilst Mrs. Bratt was out; later on I should have no excuse for entering the old man's room.

      Without giving myself a moment to reflect, and marvelling all the time at my own boldness. I tiptoed stealthily into the Captain's sitting-room and opened the cabinet door. Yes—there was the box in the same place where I had first seen it, but now it was not even tied with string. Trembling all over, I thrust a shaking hand under the lid and, feeling the jar in its oilskin covering, quickly transferred it to the depths of my trouser pocket. Then closing up the cabinet again, I ran back quickly to the kitchen, and there Mrs. Bratt found me when she returned about a quarter of an hour later.

      "Oh, Mr. Wacks," she called out, "how dreadfully pale you are. I'll have you going next if you don't take care," and she burst again weakly into tears.

      I got away from her in a little while, and by 9 o'clock, at latest, went into my bedroom to get ready for bed.

      I was just tired out and worn out, and only in half a mind after all about tasting any of the paste. I unwrapped the jar, however, and taking off the parchment cover curiously examined its contents. It was dark red in color, and thick, like jam that has set very hard. Almost automatically, I tasted a little with my finger. It was rather sickly and had the strong flavor of aniseed. I dipped in the handle of my tooth brush and brought up what I thought was about a small teaspoonful. I hesitated, perhaps for two seconds and then quickly put it in my mouth and gulped it down, so as not to give myself time to consider or repent.

      I am sure now that I expected something to happen at once. I know I stood still in a perfect smother of excitement with great drops of perspiration running down my face.

      Nothing happened, however, except that I felt rather sick. I waited and waited, mopping my forehead with shaking hands, hardly able to breathe for my emotion. Quite ten minutes must have passed and my feelings turned partly to relief and partly to disgust. What an ass I had been to believe all the old Captain had said! I had made no allowance for the natural superstitious credulity of all sea-going men and had now gone and swallowed some beastly stuff that might have turned rotten years ago and would probably give me fearful stomach-ache later in the night.

      I threw the pot angrily into the cupboard amongst my clothes, and, very much disgusted with myself, undressed and got into bed.

      My head was aching terribly and I expected to turn and toss, hour upon hour, before getting off to sleep.

      But no, I must have dropped to sleep almost at once, for with a most vivid recollection of even the remotest happenings of that eventful night I can remember nothing more until when I woke up just before the hall clock struck three.

      I believe, indeed, I had had some heavy dreams in which Waller and Captain Barker figured prominently, but, they left no distinct waking impressions on my brain, and I woke to the howl of Boulter's dog in the garden of the house next door.

      I sat up instantly in a tearful rage.

      What right had Boulter to keep such a brute out of doors at night? Boulter himself might be as deaf as a post, but that was no reason why everyone else in the road should be nightly exasperated by the СКАЧАТЬ