The Unknown Ajax (38 page)

Richmond, who was lying on the flagged floor, had come round. He was being supported by John Joseph, kneeling behind him, while Polyphant was waving some burnt feathers under his nose, and Chollacombe, looking very much shaken, stood rather helplessly behind Polyphant, holding a glass of brandy in his hand. Richmond’s coat had been cut off, and his shirt ripped away from his left arm and shoulder. Claud, managing to obtain a glimpse into the room over Vincent’s shoulder, recoiled, shuddering, from a scene which did, indeed, resemble a shambles. There seemed to be blood everywhere he looked, even on his valet’s immaculate raiment, and as he invariably felt queasy if he only cut his finger, he could scarcely be blamed for his hasty retreat.

John Joseph looked up under his brows at the Major, saying dourly: “Tha’ll do well to bestir thysen, Mester Hugo, if we bahn to bring t’lad out of this scuddle! Happen t’gadgers will be banging on t’door in a piece, so, if tha wants to be any hand afore, think quick!” “How badly is he hit?” Hugo asked, putting Polyphant out of his way, and bending over Richmond.

“Nay, it’s noan so bad, but seemingly t’bullet’s lodged.” He shifted Richmond slightly, and raised the folded dishcloth he was holding over an ugly wound high up on Richmond’s shoulder. It began to bleed again, but sluggishly. Hugo saw that the blood was coming mostly from the torn flesh; and a brief scrutiny satisfied him that the bullet, which seemed to have ripped its way at an oblique angle into the shoulder, had not penetrated deeply enough to touch any vital parts. He said cheerfully: “Well, that’s the first thing to be dealt with. But we’ll have him where I can get to work on him. Nay, Anthea, a little blood-letting won’t kill him! One of you bring lights in the morning-room—you, Polyphant! I’ll want a bowl of hot water, plenty of lint, if you have it, and the brandy: take it along there, Chollacombe! Now then, you young good-like-naught!” He stooped, as he spoke, and, without apparent effort, lifted Richmond up in his arms.

Richmond, still dazed and faint, muttered: “Dragoons, I think. Two of them. Couldn’t see clearly—light bad. In the Home Wood. Must have rumbled me.”

“Out of the way, Vincent!” Hugo said, bearing his burden to the door. “Wait, you fool!” Vincent said. “The boy’s got to be hidden! You can’t take him into the morning-room! If there were dragoons in our grounds they must have a warrant to search: we may have them upon us at any moment! They mustn’t find him here, like this!” “Nay, we’ll have him in better shape to be looked at. Don’t be a dafthead, man! If it’s Richmond they want, the lad must be here, where he should be! There’s no hiding him: you had as well hand him over to Ottershaw without more ado! We must think of a better way out of the mess than that. Nay, sneck up, Vincent! you’re wasting time, and it may be we’ve very little of it at our disposal.”

Vincent fell back, but said angrily: “What can we possibly do but hide him? He’s led them straight to this house, dripping blood all the way, I don’t doubt, the damned little idiot, and what can we do but get him away?—out of the country, if we can!”

“I’m sorry—they were guarding the Dower House,” Richmond said, very faint still, but in a rather stronger voice. “No light in the window. That’s Spurstow’s signal. Hugo said come to him—in a tight squeeze. I was nearly caught, not far from Peasmarsh. Very tight squeeze!” Hugo lowered him into a chair by the table in the middle of the morning-room, but kept a supporting arm round him, stretching out a hand for the brandy Chollacombe was still holding. He put the glass to Richmond’s lips, and made him swallow the draught. His face was quite calm, but a little graver than usual; he glanced round, taking note of the bowl of water Anthea had set down on the table, of the lint, and the torn sheets Mrs. Flitwick was assembling; and said, his eyes coming to rest on his groom: “How do you come into this, John Joseph? Were you seen with Mr. Richmond?”

“Nay, I was nobbut taking a stroll, and smoking my pipe, I heard t’shot, but I never saw hair nor hide of any dragoon, nor gadger neither.”

“I shook them off. Only got a glimpse of me,” Richmond said, wincing under Hugo’s hands. “Thought I could reach the house, but I suppose I was losing blood all the way. Found I couldn’t see—began to feel too giddy—” He broke off, settling his teeth, as Hugo began to swab the wound.

“That’s reet enough, Mester Hugo. I saw him come stackering round t’corner of t’ould barn up yonder, and I brung him in nighest-about, and washed t’soot off his face first thing.” “That’s good; they’ll search through the woods before they come here,” said Hugo, not lifting his eyes from his task. “Get back to your own quarters now, John Joseph: I don’t want you mixed up in this. Tell me, Richmond: why did they shoot at you?”

“I didn’t halt, when one of them shouted out. Couldn’t, because—no time to get rid of—the smock,” Richmond gasped jerkily. “Blacked my face, too—Hugo!”

“I’m sorry, lad, but I’ve got to pack this wound as tight as I can, or we’ll fall all-abits. There was no coming to cuffs?”

“No. I didn’t know they were there, till I heard them shout. Then I ran for it, dodging—this way and that. Know the wood better than they do—didn’t need much light.” “Ottershaw wasn’t there,” Hugo decided. “He’d have given no order for shooting, and he won’t be suited when he knows you were shot at.” Vincent, who was holding Richmond’s arm in a firm grip, glanced up at the Major, saying: “If they didn’t catch the boy with smuggled goods, they’ve no case against him. As for shooting at him—in his own grounds, too!—we might use that to scotch the whole business, if it weren’t for the smock, and the black face. You damned young fool, what possessed you to put on that rig?”

“Had to put myself out of twig—didn’t want to be recognized. Before, I’ve always put off my disguise at the Dower House. Tonight, couldn’t. I think—Ottershaw guessed it—some time ago. I knew he was on a hot scent. That’s why I took the risk of getting the goods away as soon as it was dark. It seemed the only chance—hoped there’d be no watch so early. I didn’t want to fall back on—my other plan—but—had to—because—”

“Hold him, Hugo! he’s going off again!” Vincent said quickly, releasing Richmond’s arm to snatch up the decanter of brandy.

“No wish to be troublesome,” said Claud, in an ominously faint voice, “but I think I’ll take a drop myself! Can’t stand the sight of blood: never could! Willing to do any thing in my power, but I can’t and I won’t come near the table till you take that bowl away, so I’ll be obliged to you if you’ll bring a glass over to me, Vincent. Not you, Polyphant! There’s blood all over your coat!”

Vincent glanced towards him, where he sat limply on the sofa, his handkerchief pressed to his month, and exclaiming contemptuously: “For God’s sake, don’t be so lily-livered, you miserable man-milliner! Anyone would think, to look at you, that you’d been wounded! Hell and the devil, he is going faint!” He relinquished the glass he had just filled into Hugo’s hand, and swiftly crossed the room to render rough and ready treatment to his younger brother, thrusting his head down between his knees, and holding it there despite protests from his victim, who tried feebly to free himself, but was only rescued by Anthea’s intervention. She begged Vincent to let him go, so that he could lie flat on the sofa, and recover at leisure. “Take the smelling-salts, Claud, and shut your eyes! You mustn’t faint!” she told him urgently. “Chollacombe, pray fetch another glass directly!”

Richmond, meanwhile, was recovering his colour a little. He swallowed some of the brandy, and murmured: “Not going to go off again. Better now. Give me a moment! It was only—hurts like the devil—what you’re doing!”

“It’s got to be done, lad, if I’m to bring you off. I’ve no time to do more than stop the bleeding the best way I can, and it’s bound to hurt like the devil, for I’m packing it tightly, and you’ve a bullet lodged there, you know. Come, now, swallow another mouthful, and you’ll be champion!”

Richmond obeyed. He was lying relaxed against Hugo’s arm, and he looked up at him, saying: “I lied to you. I had to. It was my responsibility: I couldn’t leave them in the lurch! I had to see all safe. I was in command, you see, because it was my scheme.” The Major looked down at him, slightly smiling. “Happen you’ll shape to be a good officer, after all,” he said. “Lean forward again now: I’ve nearly done.”

“Go on! I’ve got him,” Vincent said. “I’m damned if I know what we do next, though! You’re not going to try to convince the Excisemen he’s been with us all the evening, are you? If we could get rid of the bloodstains here, in the house, which we’ve no hope of doing, the tracks will lead them to the side-door, as soon as there’s light enough for them to be followed.” He felt Richmond writhe, and his hold on him tightened. “Keep still! You’re very well served if it does hurt: I’ve no sympathy to waste on you! How you can have been such a crass fool as to have gone out on the damned disreputable business tonight, after all that Hugo said to you, after assuring me you weren’t in mischief, inspires me with only one desire, and that’s to wring your worthless neck!”

“I had to! The casks were still here!” “Still where?” Vincent said sharply. “Here. In the passage. Ever since the last run.”

“What passage?” Vincent demanded, looking down at him in sudden, astonished suspicion. He could not see his face, however, for a pang of exquisite anguish had made Richmond gasp, and lean his forehead against his supporting arm. Vincent stared down at the top of his dark head. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve found the secret passage?” Richmond managed to utter: “Yes. This end. Spurstow found—the other—ages ago.” He stopped, quite unable to continue speaking for several moments. Vincent glanced quickly up at Hugo, but Hugo’s attention seemed to be fixed wholly on what he was doing. Vincent, violently irritated, was obliged to choke back an impatient demand to know whether he was listening.

He was certainly the only one of those present to remain unmoved. Mrs. Flitwick, letting the scissors fall from her fingers, ejaculated: “Lawk-a-mussy on us, whatever do you mean, Master Richmond?”

“Richmond, you didn’t?” Anthea said, quite incredulous. “The boy’s raving! Doesn

’t know what he’s saying!” pronounced Claud, who had sat up with a jerk. “Yes, I do. Not difficult—once we’d cleared—the blockage,” Richmond said thickly. “Roof had fallen in—not far from the other entrance. Think it must be—where there’s that dip—in the ground—”

“Never mind that!” interrupted Vincent.

“No. Well—Spurstow only used it—to store—the run cargoes—till I found out—and knew—must be the passage—and made him—help to clear the blockage. Devil of a task, but managed to do it. Easy, after that. Only had to work out—where the other entrance must have been. In the old part of the house, of course. Cellars. Bricked up. Only fear was—might be heard when we broke through. Servants’ quarters—too close to the old wing. But bad thunderstorm one night—did it then!”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” said Claud, who had been listening, open-mouthed, to these revelations. “You know, there’s no getting away from it!—Young Richmond’s a hell-born babe, all right and tight, but, by Jupiter, he’s a bit of a dab!”

“A bit of a dab to use this house as a smuggler’s store?” said Vincent, in a voice of scathing contempt.

“I’m not a hell-born babe!” Richmond lifted his head. “It’s no worse than letting them use the barn by the Five Acre—which they’re always done! Grandpapa wouldn’t say so!” “My God—!” Vincent’s eyes again went to Hugo’s face, but he was still not attending. “Listen, you young sapskull!” Vincent said harshly. “Can you see no difference between that and becoming yourself a smuggler?”

“Oh! Well—yes, but I didn’t think it was so very bad. I only did it for the sport of it! I don’t benefit by it—and in any event—when Grandpapa said he would never let me be a soldier—I didn’t care about anything anymore! You wouldn’t understand. It doesn’t signify.” “Master Richmond, Master Richmond!” said Chollacombe, tears of dismay in his eyes. “Never did I think to hear—”

“No sense in talking like that!” snapped Mrs. Flitwick. “A judgment—that’s what it is! A judgment on those as should have known better, and nothing will make me say different!” “Sticking-plaster!” interrupted Hugo imperatively.

Polyphant, who had constituted himself his assistant, started, and said hurriedly: “Yes, sir—immediately! I beg pardon, I am sure! I allowed myself to be distracted, but it shall not occur again! And the scissors! Mrs. Flitwick, the scissors!—Good gracious me, ma’am—Ah, I have them!”

Richmond, wincing as Hugo began to cover his handiwork as tightly as he could with strips of the sticking-plaster, said: “Any way—I did it! Ottershaw was always suspicious of Spurstow. Began to watch the Dower House whenever he got word a run was expected. Made it devilish difficult—to use the place. That’s how—I came into it. Saw how I could make Ottershaw look as blue as—as megrim. I did, too. He don’t know now—how the kegs were got into the Dower House. We ran them up here, from the coast, and took them the rest of the way through the passage. But I never had them kept at this end of the passage! Or let them be taken away from here—until tonight, when—nothing else I could do. Knew I might have to, so had it all—trig and trim. Ponies in the Park. Had the kegs carried there: too dangerous to bring ’em up to the house. Only thing was—knew Ottershaw was hot on my scent—couldn’t be sure he wasn’t keeping some kind of a watch on this place too, so—had to lay a false scent. That’s why we did the thing—so early. Ottershaw’s grown too—fly to the time of day. Had to make him think it must be the real run, and we’d hoped to get away before any watch was set on the place. He did.” Richmond’s head was up, and his sister, gazing at him in horror, saw the glow in his eyes. “It was the best chase of them all—my last!” he said, an exultant little smile on his pale lips. “You don’t know—! If only I hadn’t taken it for granted I was safe on our own ground!—I ought to have known, but I’d shaken off the pursuit, and never dreamed there’d be anyone watching for my return here. I’ve never come back before except by the passage. Jem said I’d be taken at fault one day, but he’s got no stomach at all for a close-run thing. He didn’t like it even when we took up the casks in broad daylight once—pulling in mackerel-nets! Swore he’d never go out with me again, but I knew no Exciseman would think anyone would dare do that, so it wasn’t really very dangerous.” A tiny laugh broke from him. “We were hailed by a naval cutter: you should have seen Jem’s face! But the kegs were hidden under the mackerel—we’d got the Seamew spilling over with them! I offered to sell ’em to the lieutenant aboard the cutter: just joking him!—and of course we came off safe!”