V
Next Thursday came at last, the day on which Thomas Barnes’ shed was to be anti-burgled. At ten o’clock, having had leave to stay up late on this great occasion, Mary put on her things, and Mr. Verney, who had come to dinner, took her to his rooms. There, in the outhouse which he used for a studio, he showed her the truck.
“And here,” he said, “is my secret,” pointing out the words—
THOMAS BARNES,
PORTER, MERCOMBE.
which he had painted in white letters on the side.
“He’s bound to keep it now, whatever happens,” Mr. Verney said. “In order to make as little noise as possible to-night,” he added, “I have wrapped felt round the tyres.”
He then took a bag from the shelf, placed it on the barrow, and they stole out. Mr. Verney’s landlady had gone to bed, and there was no sound of anyone in the village. The truck made no noise.
After half a mile they came to the cross-roads where Thomas Barnes’ cottage stood, and Mr. Verney walked to the house and knocked loudly.
There was no answer. Indeed, he had not expected one, but he wished to make sure that Thomas had not returned from Westerfield sooner than he should.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Now for the anti-burgling.”
He wheeled the truck to the side of the gate leading to the shed, and, taking the bag, they passed through. Mr. Verney opened the bag and took out a lantern, a hammer, and a screw-driver.
“We must get this padlock off,” he said, and while Mary held the lantern he worked away at the fastenings. It was more difficult than he expected, especially as he did not want to break anything, but to put it back exactly as it had been. Several minutes passed.
“There,” he cried; “that’s it.”
At the same moment a sound of heavy footsteps was heard, and Mary gave a little scream and dropped the lantern.
A strong hand gripped her arm.
“Hullo! Hullo!” said a gruff voice. “What’s this? Housebreaking, indeed!”
Mr. Verney had stooped for the lantern, and as he rose the policeman—for he it was—seized him also.
“You’d better come along with me,” the policeman said, “and make no trouble about it. The less trouble you make, the easier it’ll be for you before the magistrates.”
WHILE MARY HELD THE LANTERN, HE WORKED AWAY AT THE FASTENINGS.
“But look here,” Mr. Verney said, “you’re making a mistake. We’re not housebreaking.”
The policeman laughed. “Now, that’s a good’un,” he said. “Dark lantern, screw-driver, hammer, eleven o’clock at night, Thomas Barnes’ shed—and you’re not housebreaking! Perhaps you’ll tell me what you are doing, you and your audacious female accomplice here. Playing hide-and-seek, I suppose?”
“Well,” said Mr. Verney, suddenly striking a match with his free hand, and holding it up so that the light fell full on his own and on Mary’s face, “we’ll tell you the whole story.”
“Miss Stavely!” cried the policeman, “and Mr. Verney. Well, this is a start. But what does it all mean?”
Then Mr. Verney told the story, first making Dobbs promise not to tell it again.
The policeman grew more and more interested as it went on. Finally he exclaimed: “You get the door open, sir, and I’ll fetch the truck through. Time’s getting along.”
He hurried out of the yard and returned carrying the truck on his shoulders. Then he stripped off the felt with his knife and ran it into the shed, beside the old broken-down barrow that had done service for so many years.
Mr. Verney soon had the padlock back in its place as if nothing had happened, and after carefully gathering up the felt they hurried off, in order to get home before Thomas Barnes should call with the medicine that he had been sent to buy.
“Let me carry the bag, sir,” the policeman said.
“What, full of burgling tools!” said Mr. Verney.
“Mum’s the word,” the policeman replied, “mum’s the word.”
At the forge cottage he wished them good-night.
“Then you don’t want us in court to-morrow?” Mr. Verney asked.
“Mum’s the word,” was all that Dobbs replied, with a chuckle.
Thomas Barnes’ train being late, Mary did not get to bed until after twelve that night. She laid her head on the pillow with particular satisfaction, for the last and most difficult part of the distribution of Uncle Herbert’s money was over.