Now not to look for a spy is easy enough: yet, because, perhaps, we did not want him, Fate must needs deliver one into our hands.
This was the way of it.
Both cars left Lass the next morning at eight o’clock. We were bound for the dell, where there was work to be done. Hitherto, on reaching the crossroads, the cars had gone different ways: but today both took the road out of which ran the drive which served Gath, so that, if someone was watching, he should be able for once to account for us all. Mansel was leading, and I was sitting with Hanbury, who was driving the second car.
No doubt our ways were known; but, be that as it may, when Mansel had swept past the drive, a man rose out of the bushes, stepped to the edge of the road and stood watching the car out of sight.
To ignore him was out of the question: we were less than a hundred yards off. If he ran, we were bound to give chase; and we were three to one. We might contrive to lose him, but you cannot run through a wood without declaring your line, and, unless he had a fair start, such a failure would be instantly suspected, if not by the spy, by Rose Noble, the moment he made his report.
“Take him aboard,” said George. “It’s the only way.”
That this was so became increasingly clear, for we made no manner of sound, and the man was absorbed in his view of Mansel’s car. Indeed, I had no time to think and barely enough to act. The man had no time to do either.
As we passed, I took him by the neck, and Bell leaned out behind me and dragged his legs into the car.
Not until then did I see that it was Jute.
He did not attempt to struggle; but I held him as I had seized him, till Bell had strapped together his ankles and wrists. Then we took a pistol from his pocket and put him on the floor of the car. And so we had meant to leave him, but such was his criticism of our conduct that after a little we gagged him with a handful of cotton waste.
“Understand this,” said Mansel. “It’s entirely your fault that you’re here. Chandos would have ignored you, but you didn’t give him a chance. You served your turn very well, but I finished with you at Lass. A man of your parts should have known that and have taken the greatest care to keep out of my way.”
Jute made no answer, and presently Mansel went on.
“I have no time for a prisoner, for prisoners must be watered and fed. So I’m going to do one of two things. Which I do will depend upon you. Either I return you to Rose Noble, or else I hang you by the neck.”
“Murder?” said Jute, and laughed.
“Murder,” said Mansel, beginning to fill a pipe.
I glanced round the dell.
The spot was peaceful: a gurgling brook, a little lawn and the shade of spreading trees made it seem fit for a shepherd’s piping-match. Jute and all of us looked curiously out of place.
Perhaps, because of this, I had a strange feeling that I should presently awake and find that I had been dreaming, and to this day, recalling the happenings of that sunshiny morning, I seem to be remembering some vision rather than a downright business of life and death.
Mansel was speaking.
“Now, if I return you to Rose Noble, I shall take you up to the Castle and watch you go in. That is, if it’s dark. If it’s during the day, I shall watch from the wood. You see, I don’t want to be seen.”
Jute’s face was a study.
“Now, in view of what Rose Noble said when you reported, after you had ‘led me to Lass’ ”—I saw Jute start—“I imagine your next meeting will be even less cordial—unless you return precisely when you are expected, and say nothing of having met me. I mean, he might easily argue that you had ‘led me to’ Gath.”
His eyes upon Mansel’s face, Jute was plainly thinking extremely hard.
Mansel continued slowly, pressing his tobacco home.
“I can’t return you today, because I’ve too much to do. In fact—”
“See here,” said Jute. “You can make it tomorrow night. Do that, and I haven’t seen you since you went by in the car.”
“Don’t try to bluff,” said Mansel. “It’s only wasting my time. You haven’t a card. You had quite a good one about five seconds ago: but I’ve just drawn that. You see, I wanted to know whether Rose Noble would worry if you didn’t come in tonight.”
I watched the blood come into the other’s face.
Mansel continued in the same even tone.
“I tell you this to show you that it’s no good playing with me. Bear that in mind. And now to business.”
I cannot describe the coldness with which Mansel spoke: there was no insolence in his speech, only an iron contempt, which must, I think, have entered into the other’s soul.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’ll allow you one lie: if you tell two lies, I shall hang you from a branch of that oak.”
“And you talk about bluff,” sneered Jute.
“It’s not bluff,” said Mansel. “I’ve got the gloves right off. Two lies, and you’re for the high jump, as sure as I’m sitting still. And now we’ll begin. Assume you’re on the ramparts above the gateway. How would you go from there to where Mrs. Pleydell lies?”
Jute gave a short laugh.
“I thought,” he said, “you’d finished with me at Lass.”
“So I had,” said Mansel, bringing a match to his pipe.
“Looks like
