Volume Four—Chapter Fifteen.
Crellock on Guard.
That night, after the roughly-prepared meal that topic the place of dinner, and at which mother and daughter resumed their places as of old, Hallam sat for some time with Crellock talking in a low tone, while Mrs Hallam returned to the drawing-room with Julia, both looking perfectly calm and resigned to their fate.
At last Hallam rose, and followed by Crellock, crossed the hall and opened the drawing-room door, where his wife and child were seated with the light of the candles shining softly upon their bended heads.
“It will be all right,” he muttered; and he turned round and faced Crellock, who smiled and nodded.
“Nothing like a little firmness,” he said, smiling.
Then Crellock went into the verandah to smoke his cigar and play the part of watch-dog in case of some interruption to his plans; and, while Hallam employed himself in his old fashion, drinking himself drunk in the house of Alcohol his god, the dark calm evening became black night, and a moist, soft wind from the Pacific sighed gently among the trees.
Crellock walked round the house time after time, peering in at the windows, and each time he looked there was the heavy stolid face of Hallam staring before him at vacancy; on the other side of the house Julia gazing up into her mother’s face as she knelt at her feet.
It must have been ten o’clock when, as Crellock once more made his round, he saw that Hallam was asleep, and that Mrs Hallam had taken up the candle still burning, and with Julia holding her hand, was looking round the room as if for a last good-night.
Then together they went to the door, hand in hand; the door closed; the light shone at the staircase window, then in their bedroom, where he watched it burn for about a quarter of an hour before it was extinguished, and all was dark.
“I shan’t feel satisfied till I have her safe,” he said, as he walked slowly back to his old look-out that commanded the road.
The wind came in stronger gusts now, for a few minutes, and then seemed to die quite away, while the clouds that overspread the sky grew so dense that it was hard to distinguish the trees and bushes a dozen yards from where he stood.
He finished his cigar, thinking out his plans the while, and at last coming to the conclusion that it was an unnecessary task this watching, he was about to make one more turn round the verandah, and then enter by the window and go to bed, when he fancied he heard a door close, as if blown by the wind that was once more sighing about the place.
“Just woke up, I suppose,” he said, and he walked towards the study window and looked in.
Hallam had not moved, but was sleeping heavily in his old position.
Crellock listened again, but all was perfectly still. It could not have been fancy. Certainly he had heard a door bang softly, and the sound seemed to come from this direction.
He stood thinking, and then went round and tried the front door.
“Fast.”
He walked round to the back door, following the verandah all the way, and found that door also fast.
“I couldn’t have been mistaken,” he said, as he listened again.
Once more the wind was sighing loudly about the place, but the noise was not repeated, and he walked on to the dining-room window; but as he laid his hand upon the glass door and thrust it open, a current of air rushed in, and there was the same sound: a door blew to with a slight bang.
Crellock closed and fastened the glass door as he stepped out and ran quickly round to the drawing-room, where it was as he suspected: the glass door similar to that he had just left was open, and blew to and fro.
“There’s something wrong,” he said excitedly, his suspicions being aroused; and, dashing in, he upset a chair in crossing the room, and it fell with a crash, but he hurried on into the hall, through to the study, and caught Hallam by the arm.
“Wake up!” he said excitedly. “Hallam! Wake up, man.”
He had to shake him heavily before the drink stupefaction passed off, and then Hallam stood trembling and haggard, trying to comprehend his companion’s words.
“Wrong?” he said. “Wrong? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know yet. Look sharp! Run up to your wife’s room. Take the candle. Quick, man; are you asleep?”
In his dazed state Hallam staggered, and his hand trembled so that he could hardly keep the light anything like steady. There was the knowledge, though faintly grasped, that something was terribly wrong. He gathered that from his companion’s excited manner, and, stumbling on into the hall, blundered noisily up the stairs while Crellock stood breathing hard and listening.
“Here, Millicent! Julie!” he cried hoarsely; “what’s the matter?”
Crellock heard the lock handle turn, and the door thrown open so violently that it struck against the wall, but there was no reply from the voices of frightened women.
“Do you hear? Milly—Julie! Why don’t you answer?” came from above, and Crellock’s harsh breathing became like the panting of some wild beast.
For a few moments there was absolute silence; then the sound of stumbling, heavy steps, and Hallam came out on to the landing.
“Steve!” he cried excitedly, perfectly sober now, “what is it? What does it mean? They’ve gone!”
“I knew it,” cried Crellock with a furious cry. “I might have seen it if I had not been a fool. Come down quick! They’ve not gone far.”
Candle in hand, Hallam came staggering down the stairs with his eyes staring and his face blotched with patches of white.
“They’ve gone,” he stammered hoarsely. “What for? Where have they gone?”
“Out into the dark night,” cried Crellock furiously. “There is only one way that they could go, and we must have them before they reach the town.”
“Town!” faltered Hallam; “town!” for in the horror of his waking and the conscience hauntings of the moment, he seemed to see two ghastly white faces looking up at him from the black waters of the harbour.
“Yes, come along, follow me as quickly as you can,” roared Crellock; and going swiftly through the dining-room he crossed the verandah and dashed out into the thick darkness that seemed to rise up as a protecting wall on behalf of those whom he pursued.