CHAPTER VIII
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE COTTAGE
VOLNA walked up to the wood fire, took off her fur turban, shook it, and laughed.
“Were you ever as wet before? I never was.”
“I wonder if the woman can find you something to put on while the clothes are dried. What do you make of her?”
“She about fits the place,” she replied, glancing round the room.
A wooden bench, a couple of wooden armchairs, a square table and a black oak chest of drawers with some unpainted shelving over it for crockery, pots, and pans, constituted the furniture; and for decoration a couple of crude coloured prints, scriptural in subject and grimy with age, hung over the fireplace with a piece of broken looking glass on a string between them.
“Rough,” I said, in answer to her look.
“It might be dirtier. It is always a good sign when a woman’s care can be traced.”
“She said she was a lone woman, so she can’t have much else to do except look after the place.”
Volna smiled. “Didn’t you see those?” and she pointed to a pair of men’s boots by the chest of drawers. “Probably wood cutter or charcoal burner or something of that sort; often very honest people.”
I thought of the man’s face I had seen and said nothing.
“Have you your flask?” I took it out. “Good, then I shall warm some water and you must have a hot drink;” and in a minute she had cleaned a small saucepan and had the water on the fire.
“I wish the woman would come back,” I grumbled. “I want you to get your wet clothes off.”
“I shouldn’t call her,” replied Volna.
“Why not?”
“I shouldn’t let her know that we know she locked the door.”
“Did you notice that?”
“That’s deliciously man-like, Bob. Of course we’re in a very queer place; but we may as well pretend we see nothing odd and suspect nothing. We’re not really blind, however.”
“I begin to think Peggy’s more wonderful than ever,” said I with a chuckle.
The woman came in then with a bundle of clothes on her arm; and her manner was very different. She was a hideous creature truly; the upper part of her face seamed with what might have been two knife slashes, and one cheek quite disfigured with marks like those which vitriol leaves. When she spoke or smiled her mouth drew up to the side, disclosing long yellow fangs of teeth.
“Ah, that’s right; a hot drink you’re making. You’re both wet to the skin, aren’t you? I’ve rummaged up some clothes for you. I’ll make you as comfortable as I can; but I’m only a poor woman——”
“You’re a very kind one,” said Volna, looking at the clothes she had brought.
“They are only rough, you know; but the best I can manage.”
“Water’s hot, Bob,” cried Volna. “Get me a cloth to wipe these glasses,” she said to the woman; and the moment her back was turned Volna slipped the papers from her dress and handed them to me. We mixed some brandy and water and I insisted upon her drinking some.
“I’ve set a candle in the room opposite for you,” said the woman.
“Call me when you’re ready, Peggy;” and I went off with the clothes she had brought for me.
I had just completed the change when I heard a stealthy step in the passage. I was listening for it, indeed, and had not shut the door. Some one tried to shut it for me. I stopped that and pulled it wide open. It was the man whose face I had seen before—long, thin, cadaverous and cunning, with close set, ferrety eyes.
“Come in,” I said, cheerfully.
He started very uneasily and then mumbled: “I thought you didn’t know it was open.”
“All right. I suppose these are your things. I’m much obliged to you.”
“They’re my best,” he answered. “You’re welcome.”
Now he was some four inches shorter than I, whereas the clothes were quite long enough for me; and the discrepancy did not escape me, nor tend to lessen my suspicions.
He stood watching me silently as I finished the change and took out the contents of my pockets. But I was careful not to let him see that I had a weapon.
In the silence I could hear the rain streaming down.
“It’s a fearful night,” I said; “your wife said you weren’t at home.”
“Just come in.”
“You managed to keep dry.”
He pretended not to hear me. “It won’t last much longer. How did you come here?”
“We got off the road in the dark and saw a light in your window.”
“Strangers here, maybe?” I caught a quick furtive glance with a gleam of considerable interest in the shifty eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in this particular spot before; but I shall know better when I see it by daylight. Anybody can get lost in the dark.”
“Going far?”
“Out for a ride and got caught in the storm. Will you see to the horses for me?”
“I have. Couple of good ones. One of them is nearly done up. You’ve come far?”
At that moment Volna opened the door of the other room and called me. She burst into a merry laugh at the sight of me and I grinned back at her.
“You look as if you were made up as a peasant for theatricals,” I said.
“I don’t know what you’re like. But I’m dry. Think of it, Bob, dry once more.”
I carried in my wet things and they were soon steaming by the fire with hers. The woman hustled about and put some black bread and vile cheese on the table; while the man stood fidgetting about sheepishly by the door.
“It’s all I’ve got to eat; but I can make you some coffee.”
“The very thing,” said Volna.
“Fetch the coffee, Ivan,” said the woman. The man hesitated, glanced at her, and then shuffled away.
“Come on, Bob, I’m famished,” cried Volna, sitting down and cutting some bread.
“Ivan says your horse is done up,” said the woman. “You must be a long way from home.”
“Further than you think,” replied Volna. “We’re English.”
“You didn’t ride from England?” she asked stupidly.
“You dear soul, there’s the sea between England and here.”
“But you’re strangers?”
“Some more bread, Bob?” and as she bent down to cut it she whispered in French to me: “She’s asked that question a dozen times, trying to pump me all the time.”
“Strangers?” I said to the woman. “Of course we are. Tourists. Don’t know a soul for many a mile about here and not a soul knows us. But you needn’t be afraid. We can pay you;” and I took out a handful of money and tossed a gold piece across to her.
It was worth the money to see the greedy avaricious light that leapt in her eyes. But Volna looked puzzled and a little alarmed at this act of mine.
“What a time that man is getting the coffee,” the woman said. “I suppose he can’t find it;” and she went out of the room.
“Why did you do that?” asked Volna.
“Why not? It was the answer she wanted, and it’s quite a relief to be able to tell the truth.”
“Do you suspect anything?”
“I think the man is a long time finding such a thing as coffee and I wonder they don’t keep it here with the rest of their eatables;” and Volna shewed that she understood me.
The two came back wrangling: she scolding him for his delay; he protesting he didn’t know where she kept things. They were clumsy actors, however.
The woman made some coffee then and set it on the table. “I’m thinking where I’ll put you to sleep,” she said. “You can have our bed and welcome,” she added to Volna; “but for your brother, I’ll have to make one up somehow. You see we’re only poor folks. But we’ll manage. Come, Ivan.”
I was stirring my coffee and put it to my lips as they went out; and the woman turned and saw me. This time instead of locking the door upon us, they left it ajar.
It was becoming as plain as print.
I set down the cup, untasted, of course, and talked in a fairly loud tone about the kindness of the two and how good the coffee tasted; and Volna taking her cue from me agreed.
Then we all but emptied the two cups into a jug and hid it away, and went on talking unconcernedly. Presently I stole to the door and listened. The two were in the upper part of the house.
Volna, I could see now, was beginning to grow nervous.
“It’s all right. We can act much better than they, and there isn’t a thing to fear.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I think Peggy doesn’t want to be left alone, Bob,” she said.
“You’ll have to make shift with that wooden settle; but you may go to sleep without a thought.”
“What do you think they mean to do?”
“They’ve half done what they meant and we shall soon know the rest. The coffee is drugged of course, and they think we’ve drunk it. Now, lie down and just go off to sleep. I’ve dried my last three cigars and am going to smoke one of them.”
I settled her on the wooden bench and having lighted my cigar, rummaged about and found an oily rag with which I cleaned my revolver very carefully, reloaded it and kept it at hand.
I then sat down by the fire smoking and thinking and waiting. It was evident enough that we had got into the hands of some very ugly customers. I recalled several strange tales of dark deeds done in these wild and lonely parts of the country; and the circumstances now lent themselves readily to villainy.
They had got from us the fact that we were strangers, and I had purposely made no hesitation in shewing that we had plenty of money. That they had tried in their clumsy way to drug us, I had no doubt whatever; and the only question was what they meant to do next.
The fear in the woman’s first question whether we were the police, and her statement that the man was not in the house, gave a clue to their character; and the change in manner, the assumption of friendliness, the suggestiveness of sending the man to find the coffee; indeed all these circumstances fitted together too well to leave any doubt that some devilment was on foot.
I did not feel the least alarmed, however. I felt myself more than a match for the two in any rough and tumble that was to come; I was thoroughly on my guard; and had a weapon and knew well enough how to use it. As a matter of fact it was we rather than they who were laying the snare.
Somewhere between half an hour and an hour passed without a sound in the house. I had finished my cigar and tossed it away and was gazing into the flickering embers of the fire, when I heard the stairs creak slightly. A glance shewed me that Volna was asleep; a tribute this, indeed, to her trust in me.
I dropped my head as though I, too, were asleep and breathed heavily. I was very curious to know what was to happen.
In a short while the door was pushed open noiselessly and the woman put her head in. I had already set her down for the head of the firm, as the more courageous of the pair of rascals.
She looked at us both for some moments and then entered and crept towards Volna. Not daring to let her go too near, I shifted my position and grunted, as if uneasy in my sleep. This drew her attention to me, as I intended, and she stopped and stared at me.
Next she moved to the table and took up the two cups one after another; glanced from them to us in turn; and concluding that we had drunk the contents, set them down with a slight grunt of satisfaction.
The logs slipped in the fire at that moment with a shower of sparks. She started and took a quick step towards the door.
Thinking she was going I moved, breathed very heavily and blinked at her as though almost overcome with sleep.
“I came for the light,” she said in a low voice. “Our candle’s out.”
For answer I nodded, waved my hand clumsily to signify she could take it, attempted to rise and fell back in my chair, huddled together as if completely overcome with stupor.
She stood with the lamp in her hand as if planning what to do next; a look of diabolical evil on her hideous face. Then slowly and cautiously she came towards me. Having satisfied myself that she had no knife or weapon I shut my eyes and let her hold the light close to my face. I could feel her breath as she bent forward to listen to my breathing.
After a moment she moved away and crossed to Volna, whom she examined with the same scrutiny. A low sigh of satisfaction escaped her, as she turned away and went out of the room, carrying the lamp with her. I heard the stairs creak as she crept up them.
Then I woke Volna. “Don’t be frightened. Pretend to be asleep. Something is going to happen; the woman has been in to make sure that we are asleep; and will no doubt be back in a moment.”
I went back to my chair and waited, ready to resume my extremely uncomfortable position at a moment’s notice.
Shortly afterwards the stairs creaked again, more noisily this time; probably under the heavier weight of them both; but instead of entering the room the steps went along the passage. Then I heard sounds in the distance; just muffled confused noises of knocking and stamping. What caused them I could not conjecture.
Soon after they had ceased, the footsteps came again into the passage, and a moving streak of light shewed through the door of our room. This time something weighty was set down with a heavy bump just outside the door; a most unaccountable rustling followed; and then the two whispered together. In the pause a pungent odour of paraffin came from the lamp they had.
All sorts of weird conjectures crowded into my thoughts as to the possible meaning of this development. Volna had heard it all and looked at me in bewilderment. I motioned her to keep silence.
Another journey was made up the creaky staircase. It was the man who went, and while he was away the woman looked in upon us. I saw to my surprise this time that she wore her bonnet.
As the man’s tread was on the stairs again she drew back and in a whisper loud enough to reach us, she said: “It’s all right, you coward. They’re both off fast enough. You can do it safely now. The man first, mind.”
The next moment the door was pushed wide open and they both entered stealthily.