For a moment there was dead silence. Then I heard Punter’s voice.
If he omitted any blasphemies, I cannot think what they were: he stayed quite still, vomiting a stream of imprecation and only interrupting his recital to groan with pain.
In the midst I heard other steps coming, and almost at once Bunch spoke.
“What’s up?” said he. “Took a toss?”
“Oh, no,” said Punter shakily. “Just ’avin’ a lil lay down. ‘Toss,’ you gentle ⸻? I wish I’d got the ⸻ that shined these boards.”
“It’s comin’ after the stones,” said Bunch sententiously. “That’s wot it is. You nips off of the stones on to—”
“My God,” screeched Punter, “don’t I know what you does? Ain’t I jus’ done it, you ⸻?”
“All right, all right,” said Bunch soothingly. “But you ain’t broke nothing, an’ wot about shuttin’ the gate?”
“⸻ the gate,” said Punter. “An’ Casemate—the dirty swine. I knew the ⸻ was windy, but I never dreamed he was down to doin’ a bunk.”
“That’s Jute,” said Bunch. “ ’E would ’ave it Jute ’ad beat it, an’ ’e thought the devil o’ Jute.”
“God knows why,” said Punter bitterly. “It’s Jute tore everything up. If ’e ’adn’t let Mansel bounce ’im, we’d ’ve been in Paris by now—’avin’ our breakfast in bed, with our cheque books under our arms. ’Alf a million o’ money, an’ nothin’ said. An’ now you can ’ave my bit for a double Scotch.”
“ ’E ain’t dead yet,” said Bunch.
“He’s broke his back,” said Punter. “Rose knows it better than us.”
“Then, why’s ’e waitin’?” said Bunch. “Sittin’ there like a ⸻ policeman by the side o’ the bed?”
“You can search me,” said Punter. “I don’ think ’e knows ’imself. But it’s no good sayin’ nothin’—’e’s just black ice. I thought the goods was dead when she slipped ’er cuff.”
There was a gloomy silence.
Then—
“Come on,” said Bunch. “Best shut that ⸻ gate.”
The other got to his feet, and the two passed on.
I could hardly believe my ears when I heard the two of them making towards the porch. Here was a stroke of luck for which I had never hoped. And then I saw with a shock how wretched a plotter I was, for, with Punter and Bunch to waylay him, the “doctor” would never have won to the room in which Mansel lay.
The bookseller was speaking.
“I have understood nothing,” he said: “only Rose is your lady’s name.”
“All slang,” said I. “Thieves’ talk. Never mind,” and, with that, I opened the door.
Swiftly we passed through the guardroom and climbed the winding stair which led to the roof.
This was empty, and, now that I could see all around, seemed like the pleasance of some god-philosopher, whence he could watch and contemplate the world. The place did not seem like a roof, but like a gigantic terrace, hung in the air. Even the chimney-stacks could not disturb this illusion, for they had no chimney-pots and might have been great pedestals ready for statuary which had not yet been done. Indeed, the extraordinary prospect troubled my head, and I felt suddenly dizzy and the palms of my hands grew wet.
The sun was high now, and the shadow of the southeast tower lay sharp upon the flags. The stacks, too, threw their shadows and the battlements made a pattern along the side.
As I was peering, I heard the hollow clap of the castle gate. …
A moment later we were standing by the door of the southeast tower.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” I breathed, “which room they’ll be in: but I think you’ll find it leads out of the ‘gallery of stone.’ ”
The bookseller nodded, and I put out my hand.
This seemed to please him, for he took it in both of his. Then he put his mouth to my ear.
“I go,” he whispered, “to betray the violator of Gath.”
Then he adjusted his spectacles, nodded, smiled and disappeared.
Now, if I had had a pistol, I should have stayed by the door, to kill Rose Noble as he stepped on to the roof. But my pistol had been taken, and Casemate had carried no arms. I certainly had my knife, but I dared not trust my handling of such a weapon to make an end of such a man. I have often thought since that here I made a mistake and that I should have stabbed the monster as he came out of the door, but up to that day I had never done any worse violence than knock a man down with my fist, and I was frankly afraid of making a mess of the business and thereby wrecking the ship which I was trying to steer.
I, therefore, whipped to the nearest chimney-stack and crouched, with this between me and the southeast tower. This stack was to be my shield. As Rose Noble came by, I would move, keeping it always directly between him and me, and, when he was by, I would dash for the southeast tower. Once within, I had but to shut the door and shoot the bolts to bring us over the bar which had balked us so long. The rest would be child’s play. If five men armed could not break out at their pleasure. … It occurred to me suddenly that, if there was no way by the chapel, Mansel would bring out Adèle through the Dining-room floor.
Looking back, I find it curious that I should have had no doubt that Rose Noble would come up to the roof. That nine men out of ten would have done so is nothing at all. Rose Noble was the tenth man in all that he did. I cannot pay him a higher compliment. Yet I never had any doubt that, once my decoy was in action, our enemy would fall into the pit which I had digged. I was as certain of this as if I had seen it written among the
