CHAPTER XII
THE BURGLARY
"Green," said Atherton, "I hope you are not so dead tired as I am: will you do me a good turn?"
"Rather, old chap," replied Green, without hesitation.
"Well, the four of us who stuck up on watch all last night are going to turn in at once. The other fellows won't be long after us, I fancy. What I want you to do is this—to take charge, maintain order, and keep watch for the arrival of Mr Buckley. Directly you hear the boat approaching the landing wake us up. We must give him a rousing welcome, you know."
"Right-o! I'll see to all that," assented Green. "My word, you do look tired."
"And I jolly well feel it," agreed Atherton, with an irrepressible yawn. "Now, you fellows, who's going to have a snooze?"
When Atherton awoke he could hardly believe his senses. It was broad daylight. The other occupants of the tent, thoroughly tired out with their exertions, were sleeping soundly.
The Leader sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Surely young Green never let me sleep like this on purpose," he muttered. "And the new Scoutmaster has arrived and I wasn't there to receive him and hand over the care of the two patrols. A pretty fine Scout I am; and a nice mess I've made of things."
In anticipation of being called at ten o'clock Atherton had "turned in all standing." He pulled out his watch. It was seven o'clock.
Unlacing the door of the tent, the Leader stepped out. The sun was shining brightly. The storm had passed, but the wind still remained fairly high.
Atherton gazed at the ashes of the camp fire. They were still red hot. An iron pot, suspended by a chain from a tripod, was hanging over the embers. The fire had evidently been kept up for long past midnight.
"I'll wake Green and ask him all about this," said Atherton to himself; but a comprehensive examination of the blanket-enshrouded fellows in the "Otters'" tent revealed the fact that Green was not one of them.
The Leader made his way to the ridge tent that had been appropriated to the Scoutmaster's use. It was closed: the knot securing the flap was on the outside, and since it was quite evident that it was a matter of impossibility for the occupant of a tent to lace the flap on the outside, Atherton rightly concluded that Mr Buckley had not arrived.
He gave a sigh of relief; then, seized by an inspiration, he set off at a run towards the landing-place.
There, muffled in his greatcoat, and leaning heavily on his staff, was Phil Green. Hearing the approaching footfalls the Scout turned.
"What's the meaning of this, Green?" demanded Atherton.
"You told me to wait till Mr Buckley arrived," replied the Scout, without the faintest sign of reproach. "I am a bit tired, but really I've enjoyed myself. It was a beautiful sunrise. You missed something by not seeing it, Atherton."
Leader Atherton looked at the Scout to see if he could detect any signs of "pulling his leg" on Green's part.
"I'm sorry," he said at length. "It was my fault. I ought to have given more definite orders. Cut off now, and get something to eat and then turn in."
"Nothing to be sorry for, Atherton. It was like a bit of the real thing. But how about Everest and Baker?"
"Goodness only knows why they haven't turned up. I'll rout out the rest of the 'Otters,' and we'll tramp into Wadebridge directly after breakfast."
"Now, 'Otters!'" exclaimed Atherton, after the meal was over, "we are off to Wadebridge to bring in Everest and Baker, and find out why our temporary Scoutmaster hasn't arrived. The 'Wolves' can do camp duty till we return. By the by, Phillips, since Mr Trematon got you a gun licence you might just as well make yourself useful. There's his gun: you know how it works, and here are a couple dozen cartridges. See if you can't knock over enough rabbits to make a jolly good stew for supper to-night."
Accordingly Atherton, Mayne, Sayers and Scott manned one of the boats and rowed over to Polkerwyck. It was a fairly lively experience crossing Seal Bay, for there was still a heavy swell running in from the open sea; but at the expense of another drenching with spray—a circumstance that the Scouts were quite used to by this time—they landed safely on the lee side of the stone pier.
"Good morning, Mr Varco," said Atherton, as he formed up his diminished patrol on the quay.
"Good marnin', young gents. That be a fine piece o' work o' yours yestermorn."
"I'm glad we did what we were able to," replied the Leader. "By the by, did you see Mr Tassh come ashore yesterday?"
"Sure I did. He left t'Island in old Tregaskis' boat. What wur 'e a-doin' on t'Island I should like to know?"
"Wasn't it too rough last night for a boat to put off?" asked the Leader, since he could not satisfactorily reply to the old fisherman's question. "Two of our Scouts went to Wadebridge to meet the 8.15 train. I thought perhaps they couldn't get back, and had slept in the village."
"No, 'tweren't rough, in a manner o' speakin'. An no Scouts came this way up till eleven o'clock, that I du declare."
"Then they must have found a place to put up at in Wadebridge. Well, good-bye for the present, Mr Varco. We must be on the move."
As the patrol was passing the post-office the old lady came hobbling out with a small bundle of telegrams.
"These came in from Wadebridge this marnin'," she explained. "They were too late to be sent on from there last night. I was just a-going to ask Peter Varco if he'd mind a-taking them across to 'e."
"What's up now, I wonder?" asked Atherton, looking at the six envelopes.
The first one was from Mr Trematon: "Just heard of rescue. I am proud of my Scouts."
The second was from Mr Buckley: "Missed connection at Exeter. Arriving to-morrow morning 11.45."
The third completely mystified the Scout.
"Again I am indebted to Scouts for a good turn to me and mine. Am coming to Polkerwyck to personally thank you—Silas Gwinnear."
"What ever does Sir Silas mean?" asked Atherton. "How have we done him a good turn? I vote we reply to say that we do not know that we have done anything for him, unless he means that by helping Farmer Trebarwith complete his haymaking we have rendered Sir Silas a service in a roundabout way."
"Better wait a bit," suggested Sayers. "I am as much in the dark as you; but evidently Sir Silas knows more than we do. What's in the other telegrams, Atherton?"
Number four was from headquarters: "Well done, Scouts. Glad you know how to 'Be prepared.'"
Numbers five and six, couched in similar terms, came from two North London troops who had often co-operated with the 201st, and were well acquainted with the "Otters" and the "Wolves."
"My eye, they are making a song about it," remarked little Reggie Scott. "I wish you had let me bear a hand instead of sending me away to make coffee, Atherton."
"Yours was not the least part of the business, Scott," replied the Leader. "We were all jolly glad you did your part so well, I can assure you. But I agree with you, they are making a song about it. It reminds me of Shakespeare's words: 'Seeking a bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth.' That's what the bard said, eh, Phillips?"
"I don't know," replied that worthy. "I only hope we won't be bothered too much, or our holiday will be somewhat spoiled."
Maintaining a steady pace, the Scouts made light work of their march to Wadebridge. Arriving there they were greeted by Everest and Baker, who, looking as "chirpy as crickets," were patrolling the station platform.
"No luck yet," said the former, nonchalantly. "The Scoutmaster hasn't turned up yet."
"Why didn't you return last night, then?" asked Atherton.
"Return? You said we were to wait for Mr Buckley. We've had a ripping time. One of the porters made us a jolly bed in the waiting-room, and the stationmaster gave us supper and breakfast. And we know an awful lot how railways are run now, Atherton. You've missed something."
After being told this on two occasions that morning, Atherton began to think he really had missed a novel experience.
"We've had a wire," he remarked. "Mr Buckley is arriving by the 11.15. Only another ten minutes to wait."
"Here she comes," announced Atherton, when at length the train was observed in the distance. "Form up, lads, and let's give our new Scoutmaster a proper Scouts' welcome."
So intent was Atherton upon looking out for the familiar Scoutmaster's uniform that he was startled to hear a hearty voice exclaim:
"Bless my soul, Atherton! You here to meet me! And these are your chums, eh?"
Turning, Atherton saw that the speaker was Sir Silas Gwinnear.
"No, sir, we are not here to meet you. We did not know you were coming by this train," explained Atherton. "All the same we are awfully pleased to see you. It is our new Scoutmaster we are waiting for. Mr Trematon had to go home on important business."
"Oh," exclaimed the Baronet with a slight tinge of disappointment. "No matter; we'll all run down to Polkerwyck House in my motor. Squeeze you all in at a pinch. Ha there is your Scoutmaster, I see."
Mr Buckley, having seized the opportunity of doing a good turn by assisting out of the carriage a very timid and fussy old lady with a heap of small parcels, had not been able to make a prompt appearance.
He was a heavily built man of about thirty-five, slightly above middle height, clean shaven; his full face and fairly heavy jaw denoting firmness and good temper. He had been a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, but owing to a gunnery accident that greatly impaired the use of his right arm, he was invalided on a modest pension. It was galling to him to be compelled to give up his prospects in the service, but he made the best of a bad job. In spite of his disability he took up a Scoutmastership, and soon worked his troop into a state of efficiency. Always ready to oblige his friends, Mr Buckley had willingly agreed to take over temporary charge of the Scouts of Seal Island, and now he was in touch with one of his future patrols.
Returning the Scouts' salute, Mr Buckley looked enquiringly at the gentleman who was waxing so enthusiastic over the lads.
"This is Sir Silas Gwinnear who is letting us have the use of Seal Island, sir," explained Atherton.
"And who is indebted to young Atherton for saving my life, and to him and his fellow Scouts for saving the lives of several of the crew of one of my ships," added the baronet.
"One of your ships, sir?" asked Atherton, in astonishment.
"Yes, the Polybus: you saw the account in this morning's papers, Mr——?"
"Buckley," said the Scoutmaster. "Yes, I saw the account in the papers, but I did not notice to whom the vessel belonged."
"Haven't you seen the papers, lads?" asked Sir Silas.
"No, sir," was the reply.
"H'm; when you do I hope you won't suffer with swollen heads, lads. All the same it was a gallant deed. Do you know, Mr Buckley, up to only a few days ago I held strong unfavourable views on the Scout movement. It will be unnecessary for me to state what they were as I am now convinced of my error. If all Scouts are like these—and I have been assured that they are no better and no worse than their fellows in all parts of the world—mankind owes a debt of gratitude to the founder of the movement. To show my practical appreciation of what these lads have done, I have come down to Polkerwyck House for the rest of the time they remain at Seal Island. Mr Buckley, I trust you will avail yourself of my offer and ride down to Polkerwyck in my car?"
"But these lads?" asked the Scoutmaster.
"They, of course, are included: the more the merrier. My car is a fairly large one, and I have no doubt that the Scouts can exercise their ingenuity in stowing themselves somewhere."
So saying, Sir Silas led the way out of the station to where a powerful six-seater was drawn up.
Sir Silas and the Scoutmaster occupied a seat each, one of the Scouts perched himself beside the chauffeur, and the remaining five contrived to squeeze in without regard to their cramped quarters. All the lads agreed that it was infinitely better than tramping up and down dale upon the hard granite roads, for the car, under the guidance of the skilled chauffeur, simply flew. Eleven minutes from the time of leaving the station the car drew up at the gates of Polkerwyck House.
The lodge keeper hastened to throw open the massive iron gates embellished with Sir Silas Gwinnear's arms, but before the chauffeur could restart, a sergeant of the Cornish constabulary, accompanied by a policeman and a plain-clothes officer, stepped up and saluted the baronet.
"Sorry to have to inform you, Sir Silas, that up to the present we haven't any clue," said the sergeant.
"Clue? What on earth do you mean, Coombes?" asked the baronet in astonishment.
"About the burglary, sir; haven't——"
"Burglary—where?"
"Didn't Mr Tassh wire to you, sir?"
"Certainly not. What's wrong now?"
"Mr Tassh reported to us early this morning that Polkerwyck House had been broken into during the night and a large quantity of silver had been taken away."
"My silver? Surely none of the presentation plate I had given me by Lloyds'?"
"Unfortunately, sir, that is missing."
"Come back to the house, Coombes. Drive on, Rogers."
"We had better get down, Sir Silas," suggested Mr Buckley. "I am sure that in this unfortunate trouble we do not want to thrust our company upon you."
"There's no thrust about it. Stay where you are, Mr Buckley, and you, too, lads. Now, Atherton, you're a sharp lad. You've been jolly useful to me twice, and there's nothing like three for luck. Use your wits, and put your scouting abilities to the test."
There was a constrained silence amongst the numerous servants as Sir Silas entered the hall of Polkerwyck House and led his youthful guests into the study.
"The police will be here directly," he observed. "Meanwhile I'll have the butler in and see what he has to say."
In a few minutes Tassh, dressed in his black suit, obsequiously entered the room.
"What's all this I hear, Tassh?" asked the baronet. "Some of my silver gone, eh? Tell me about it."
"I locked up last night, sir, as I always do. This morning when I came down at 7.30 the safe was open, and the silver, which you gave orders was to be placed there for safety, was missing. There were marks of a jemmy on the window-sash, and footprints on the flower-beds outside. I immediately told the housekeeper, and sent Williams on horseback to fetch the police."
"H'm; have you made a list of what is missing?"
"Not yet, sir; truth to tell I was so upset that I haven't recovered my normal self."
"It would have been better if you had recovered my silver," remarked the baronet, grimly. "Or better still if you had taken steps to prevent the burglars from making their haul. How about the electric alarm?"
Tassh hesitated before replying.
"It must have been out of order, sir."
"Then it was your place to see that it was in order, Tassh. You are quite sure you slept in the house last night? I remember I had to speak to you on one occasion for stopping at Padstow one night last winter."
"I've never slept out of the house since you left, sir," said the butler, with conviction.
Atherton and his companions exchanged glances. The cool, bold-faced audacity of the man to make a declaration like that when he had been the involuntary guest of the Scouts only the day before seemed too stupendous for words.
"Very good, Tassh, you may go," said Sir Silas. "Ah, here is Coombes! Now, Coombes, let us hear what you know of the matter."
"Precious little, sir, unfortunately. The front of the safe has been cut through with an electric drill. Here is the lock, sir. The window was forced, showing that the burglars entered that way, but the strange thing about it, sir, is that they must have left by some other way, since none of the footsteps lead away from the house."
"There were two or more burglars?"
"Undoubtedly, sir. The weight of the stolen stuff is too great for one man to carry."
"Well, do your best, Coombes. Tell your inspector that I am offering two hundred pounds reward for the capture and conviction of the burglar or burglars. Let me know at once if there is any information."
"Very good, sir," said the sergeant, and, saluting, he withdrew.
"Now, Atherton, have you any suggestions to make?" asked Sir Silas. "You are the—er—Leader, don't you call it?—of the patrol. But perhaps you haven't had time to consider the case properly?"
"Can I examine the window by which the burglars are supposed to have entered, sir?"
"Certainly, you have a free hand."
"I wonder if Sir Silas is trying to pull Atherton's leg?" whispered Baker to his chum Everest.
"Shut up!" replied Everest. "If he is, he doesn't know Atherton as I do. Atherton's on to something, I'll stake my word."
The Leader of the "Otters" carefully examined the marks of the jemmy, tried the window fastenings and the sash frames.
"Now, sir, may I see the lock of the safe?"
Sir Silas pointed to the cut-out portion of metal containing the complicated lock.
"The story of the burglars is a make-up, sir," announced Atherton.