The Solitary Farm Page 15

  CHAPTER XV

  DURGO, THE DETECTIVE

  As has been seen, Durgo was no ordinary man, and even had he been whiteinstead of black, would have passed for a clever member of the Aryanrace. Undoubtedly the strain of Arab blood in him sharpened hisintellectual faculties, and made him ambitious to play a leading part inthe history of his tribe. That the members of it were savages matteredvery little, since he had been educated in the lore of the ruling race,and could raise them sooner or later almost to his own level. Almost,that is, but not quite, for Durgo had no notion that any individual ofhis tribe should be as clever as himself. He wished to be a despot, andrule from an autocratic throne.

  The one weak point in his character--if gratitude can be calledweakness--was his adoration of Edwin Lister. That gentleman hadundoubtedly saved his life, and assuredly had aided him to attain to hispresent position of culture by inducing the old chief to send his cleverson to England. But Cyril knew, what Durgo in his blind idolatry didnot--that Edwin Lister was not a man to work for nothing, and wantedmuch more than he ever gave. There was every chance that he would abusethe gratitude of Durgo, when the negro's ambition was achieved, and ifhis protege revolted from complying with the exorbitant demands whichwould surely be made on his generosity, he would speedily be reminded ofwhat had been done for him. With an ordinary man this would havemattered little as such a one would decline unreasonable exactions. ButDurgo's strongest trait was gratitude, and it was probable that in spiteof his clever brain and European education, he would become the merepuppet of his benefactor. Thus the very nobility of Durgo's nature wouldreduce him to slavery, and he would be ruined because he possessed therarest of all virtues.

  Little as Cyril had seen of his father, he knew his characterthoroughly, being able to read by intuition, as well as by observation.Edwin had only one god to worship, and that was himself--a deity socongenial that the egotist was most devout in his religion. Of course,Durgo's enslavement and Edwin Lister's tyranny had nothing to do withCyril, as father and son had long since gone on their several ways. ButCyril liked the negro, and swore to himself that if Durgo aided him tomarry Bella, he would stand by him when Edwin Lister played the tyrant.As yet--so much Cyril gathered--the trader had not shown the clovenfoot, but he would do so sooner or later, and then Cyril hoped to openDurgo's eyes to the fact that his gratitude was being abused.

  But there was much to be done before affairs arrived at this point, andthe first necessary step to take was to discover the whereabouts ofEdwin Lister. Durgo had learned much from Cyril, and something fromGranny Tunks; now it was necessary that he should be informed by Bellaof the accusation of Pence, and of her doubts about the preacher. Sheresolved to see Durgo for herself, and when Dora was at school, shewatched at the window of the cottage for the coming of the negro. Shedid not even tell Cyril of her intention, as he disbelieved herstatement that Pence had stolen certain papers and was connected in someway with the murder. That she had absolutely no grounds for such abelief troubled Bella very little, since she was very much the woman.All she knew was, that Pence could not have heard the truth about hernot being Huxham's daughter from Huxham himself and it was necessary tofind out how he came to know, let alone the necessity of making certainof its truth. Cyril would have scruples in assaulting Pence, andlearning the truth at the sword's point, as it were. Durgo, beinguncivilised, for all his education would have no such scruples, andtherefore was the best person to apply to. He would undoubtedly twistPence's slender neck as he would that of a rabbit, if he could forcefrom him any information likely to forward his aims. And unless somesuch brutal course was taken Bella felt sure that Pence would hold histongue. In her exasperation against the troublesome preacher, all thegirl's worst traits came uppermost.

  Durgo did not pass along the road in the morning, and Bella almostdespaired of seeing him. She nearly decided to go to "The Chequers Inn,"but a memory of Mrs. Giles' gossiping tongue prevented her risking somuch. In the afternoon, however, Durgo lounged along the road, in hislazy, heavy, massive fashion, arrayed in his rough tweed clothes, andlooking very much like a burly prize-fighter. Luckily there was no onein sight, as Miss Ankers' cottage was in a solitary corner on theoutskirts of Marshely, so Bella ran hatless into the garden to beckonthe negro into the cottage.

  "Come in! come in! I wish to speak to you," she said hurriedly, when hestepped up to the white palings; and she glanced right and left, to besure that no curious eyes were on her.

  Durgo stared and frowned, as education in a world-famous University hadnot quite eradicated his contempt for women. However, when Bella raninside again, and stood beckoning him in the passage, he resolved toenter, if only to learn why she acted in this bold way. So tall wasDurgo, and so low the door, that he had to stoop considerably to enter,and when in the little drawing-room he bulked hugely as Gulliver in theLilliputian temple.

  "What is it, missy?" asked Durgo roughly, for he was not inclined towaste his time in saying pretty nothings to this Englishwoman, when somuch was at stake. "I cannot stay here; I am busy."

  "I wish to help you," said Bella, going straight to the point.

  "In what way?" Durgo stared at her peremptory tone.

  "I wish to help you on condition that you help me."

  "In what way?" he asked again, and sat down on a chair, which creakedunder his mighty weight.

  "Listen," said Bella, speaking very slowly, and with her eyes on hisstrong, black face. "You are not of my colour or race, yet I am going totrust you, as Cyril told me all about you. Besides, we are both workingfor the same end--that is, we both wish to find Edwin Lister. Cyril toldme what Mrs. Tunks discovered."

  "He had no right," frowned Durgo; "I want no women----"

  "Don't despise women," said Bella drily, "for you may need the help ofone woman, and she is my own self. You know that I am supposed to beCaptain Huxham's daughter?"

  "Supposed to be?" Durgo noted the way she placed her words at once,which said much for his powers of observation, and the quick working ofhis brain.

  "Yes, Silas Pence, the preacher----"

  "I know him, missy. Go on."

  "Loves me," continued Bella, with a blush; "and to marry me he wouldstop at nothing. Last night he declared that I was not the daughter ofCaptain Huxham, and that Captain Huxham had told him as much."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "Yes. That is, I believe I am not Captain Huxham's daughter, since themoney was not left to me. But I do not believe that Captain Huxham toldthis to Silas Pence. I believe," Bella bent forward, "that Mr. Pence isconcerned in this murder, and stole certain papers, which revealed thetruth."

  Durgo's eyes flashed. He saw at once the value of such information. "Canyou prove this?" he asked in his throaty tones.

  "That's just where it is," she answered quickly. "I wish _you_ to proveit."

  "How can I do that?"

  "Question Mr. Pence, and make him answer. Force him, in whatever way youlike, to show how he actually obtained the information. If he stole thepapers stating the fact--and this I believe--he must have been in theroom where the murder was committed some hour during that night. If so,he must have seen Edwin Lister, and must know where he is."

  "Hai!" Durgo leaped to his feet. "That is true: that is probable.Perhaps he can say if my master got the jewels."

  "Perhaps he can, but I am certain that he will not."

  "Oh, I think he will! I think he will," said Durgo significantly.

  "Don't hurt him," cried Bella, alarmed, for much as she disliked thepreacher she did not wish him to come to harm at the hands of thisAfrican semi-savage. As a matter of fact, she was sorry to enlistDurgo's services at all; but, under the circumstances, there seemed tobe no help for it.

  "I shall not hurt him more than is necessary," said Durgo, catching uphis bowler hat and placing it on his woolly head; "if he speaks plainlyI won't hurt him at all. You have helped me, missy, and you will findthat I am not ungrateful. When you marry the son of my master, you willbe rich. I, Durgo
, the king, will make you rich," he ended arrogantly.

  "One moment," said Bella, detaining him; "these jewels belong to CaptainHuxham. Have you any right to take them?"

  "Every right, since they never belonged to Captain Huxham," said thenegro decisively. "My father, the great chief Kawal, gave them toMaxwell Faith, and from Maxwell Faith they were stolen by Huxham. IfFaith were alive I would return the jewels to him, and ask him to helpme with my expedition. But he is dead; Huxham murdered him, and stolethe jewels. Edwin Lister came to get back what belongs to me, and Ithink he has them."

  "Supposing you find Mr. Lister, and learn that he has not the jewels?"

  Durgo rolled his eyes ferociously. "I shall then enter the Manor-houseby force, and learn where they are hidden."

  "You would only be handed over to the police by Mrs. Vand and herhusband, Henry. It will be better for me to search."

  "How can you, since you are not friendly with Mrs. Vand?"

  Bella laughed. "I know much more about the Manor-house than Mrs. Vanddoes, I assure you," she said significantly. "There are all manner ofsecret passages and unknown chambers in that ancient mansion. If Idesired to enter, I could do so in the night-time by a secret doorhidden behind the ivy at the back of the house."

  "Then do so," said Durgo eagerly, "and search for the jewels."

  "Not yet. Wait until you see Edwin Lister, and learn if he procured thejewels. By the way, where did your father get them?"

  Durgo reflected for a few minutes. "I have heard much talk of myfather's treasure, of which these jewels were part. You know how richthe Northern part of Africa was in the time of the Romans?"

  "Yes. Cyril made me read Gibbons' History."

  "Well, when the Arabs swept across Northern Africa, they looted theRoman cities, then possessed more or less by the Goths and Vandals. Manyof the Arabs came South to Nigeria, and brought their plunder with them.I think that these jewels, which my father gave to Maxwell Faith, cameinto his possession from some remote ancestor, who so brought them. ButI cannot say. Still, that is my opinion."

  "It is a feasible idea, certainly," said Bella musingly, and astonishedat the knowledge of the negro, quite forgetting that he had beeneducated at Oxford; "but where the jewels came from, matters little.What we have to find out, is where they are, and Mr. Pence----"

  "I shall see this man," interrupted Durgo quietly; "he may lie toothers: he will tell the truth to me."

  "No violence," warned Bella anxiously.

  Durgo nodded. "I fear your police too much," said he, with an ironicalgrin, and strode out of the house, looking more burly and defiant thanever. Bella had regretted her employment of his services, but what elsecould she do when so much was at stake? Bella wished to marry Cyril,and, to do so, desired to be certain that she was not Captain Huxham'sdaughter. The papers--if her wild surmise was correct--would prove ifwhat Pence said was true. Then, since Cyril's father had not murderedher father--she put it in this confused way--she would be able to marryher lover with a clear conscience. That he might be the son of anassassin troubled her very little. To get her way after the manner of awoman deeply in love, she would have set the world on fire, or wouldhave wrecked the solar system. And in placing the safety of Pence in thehands of a semi-civilised negro, she undoubtedly was risking his life.But she did not care, so long as she attained to the knowledge which shewas confident he possessed.

  It will be seen that Bella Huxham was no Sunday-school angel, or eventhe amiable heroine of a _Family Herald_ novelette, who never by anychance does wrong. She was simply an average girl, with good instincts,brought up so far as school-training was concerned in a conventionalway. At home no one had taught her to discern right from wrong, and,like the ordinary healthy young animal of the human race, she had notpassed through sufficient sorrow to make her inquire into the truths ofreligion. Bella needed trouble to train her into a good, brave woman,and she was certainly getting the training now. But she made mistakes,as was natural, considering her inexperience.

  That same evening, Mr. Silas Pence was seated in his shabbysitting-room, making notes for his next Sunday sermon. He occupiedlodgings in a lonely cottage on the verge of the common, and did sobecause his landlady was a member of the Little Bethel congregation, whoboarded and lodged him cheaply in order to have the glory ofentertaining the minister. The landlady was a heavy-footed, heavy-facedwoman, with two great hulking sons, and occupied the back part of thepremises. Silas inhabited the best sitting-room and the most comfortablebedroom. There was no fence round the front of the cottage, althoughthere was a garden of vegetables at the back, so the sitting-room windowlooked straight out on to the purple heather and golden gorse of thewaste land. An artist would have delighted in the view, but Silas had noeye for anything beautiful in nature, and paid very little attention tothe changing glories of the year. The lodging was cheap, and thesituation healthy, so he was perfectly satisfied.

  On this especial evening, the young preacher sat at the red-repp coveredtable, reading his Bible and making his notes. It was after ten o'clock,and his landlady was asleep, as were her two sons, both agriculturallabourers worn out with the heavy toils of the day. The sitting-roomwindow was wide open, and the blind was up, so that the cool nightbreeze was wafted faintly into the somewhat stuffy room, which wascrowded with unnecessary furniture. Silas made a few notes, then threwdown his pencil and sighed, resting his weary head on his hand.

  Pence was by no means a bad man, but he was weak and excitable. Thepursuit of Bella aroused the worst part of his nature, and made himthink, say, and do much which he condemned. The better part of himobjected to a great deal which he did, but the tide of his passionhurried him away and could not be checked by the dykes of common-sense.At times--and this was one of them--he bitterly blamed himself forgiving way to the desire for Hepzibah, as he called Bella Huxham, in hisown weak mind. But, sane in all other ways, he was insane on this onepoint, and felt that he would jeopardise his chance of salvation to callher wife. Nevertheless he was sane enough to know his insanity, andwould have given much to root out the fierce love which was destroyinghis life.

  But the insane passion which he cherished for a woman who would havenothing to do with him led him deeper and deeper into the mire of sin,and in spite of his prayers and cries for help, the Unseen would donothing to extricate him from the morass of difficulties into which hehad plunged himself. At times Silas even doubted if God existed, sofutile were his attempts to gain comfort and guidance. Much as he lovedBella, he desired to win clear of the unwilling influence which sheexercised on his nature, and vainly prayed for light whereby to know thenecessary means to get rid of the tormenting demon. But no answer came,and he relapsed into despair, wondering what his congregation would sayif any member knew the unmastered temptations of his inner life. Thestruggle made him weak and ill and thin and nervous, and but that deepin his heart he knew vaguely that God was watching over him, and wouldaid at the proper time, he would have taken his own miserable life.

  With his head buried in his hands, Silas thought thus, with many groansand with many bitter tears, the shedding of which made his eyes burn.Occupied with his misery, he did not see a dark, massive form glidetowards the open window, nor did he hear a sound, for Durgo stepped aslight-footed as a cat. The sill of the window was no great distance fromthe ground, and the big negro flung his leg over the sill and into theroom. But in getting hastily through, he was so large and the window sosmall, that he made a sliding noise as the window slipped still furtherup. Silas started to his feet, but only to see Durgo completely in theroom, facing him with a grim smile.

  "I have come to speak with you, sir," said the negro.

  Silas turned white, being haunted by a fear known only to himself. Buthe read in the eyes of this black burglar--or, rather, he guessed bysome wonderful intuition, that his fear and the cause of his fear wereknown to this man. Durgo saw the look in the preacher's eyes, and readhis thoughts in his turn. The negro was not boasting when he hinted thathe possessed cert
ain psychic power. "Yes," he said, keeping his burninggaze directly on the miserable white man; "you stole papers from CaptainHuxham's room, and I----"

  "I did not," interrupted Pence wildly, and making a clutch at his breastcoat-pocket. "How dare you--"

  "The papers are in your pocket," interrupted Durgo, advancing, as henoted the unconscious action and guessed its significance. "Give methose papers."

  "I have no papers. I will alarm the house----"

  "Do so, and you shall be arrested."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You saw my master, Edwin Lister, enter the Manor-house, and thoughtthat he was his son. Cyril Lister told me as much. From what you said toMiss Huxham about her not being the daughter of the sailor, I believethat you followed my master into the house. What took place?"

  "Nothing! nothing! I swear that I did not----"

  "Those papers," said Durgo, pointing to the white hand which stillclutched feebly at the breast-pocket, "say that the girl is not CaptainHuxham's daughter. I want to know whose daughter she is."

  "You are talking rubbish. I have no papers."

  "I am making a guess, and I believe my guess is a true one. Will yougive up those papers, or must I wring your neck?"

  With widely-open eyes, the preacher flung himself against themantel-piece and clutched at a handbell. Just as he managed to ring thisfeebly, for his hands were shaking, and he was utterly unnerved, Durgo,seeing that there was no time to be lost, sprang forward and laid aheavy grasp on the miserable man's throat, ripping open his jacket withthe other hand. In less than a minute he had the papers in his hand.

  "No! no! no!" shouted Silas, and made a clutch at them.

  Durgo thrust the papers into his pocket, and raising Pence up shoulderhigh, dashed him down furiously. His head struck the edge of the fender,and he lay unconscious. But Durgo did not wait to see further. He glidedout of the window like a snake--swift, silent, stealthy, and dangerous.