The Red Bicycle

by Fergus Hume

"Well, he wouldn't, he being a swell and you only a copper, Jervis."

"That's a nasty way of talking, Hall. S'pose I was to report you to your superior for idling when your letter should be delivered."

"And s'pose I was to tell Sergeant Purse at Redleigh as you stopped me on the esplanade to gossip about what ain't any business of yours," retorted Hall, tartly. "Two can play at that game, policeman."

"Go and earn your salary." said Jervis, loftily, and walked away.

"You go and hang yourself," was the not very obvious reply of the postman; and the two opponents were parted by the heavy fog which dropped its curtain between them.

Chuckling over having had the last word, Hall mounted his machine and pedalled slowly round the corner, only too anxious to deliver the last letter and get home to his tripe and onions. He knew that the next turning was in Ladysmith Road, and it was as well that he did, for the mists were so thick that he proceeded with some difficulty. The man could hear the noise of the waves through the fog, and shivered in the chill, raw air. As there were few lamps he found himself in complete darkness when he bicycled up the road, and therefore had to ride cautiously. Finally, he was compelled to dismount, and take his machine on to the pavement, feeling for guidance along the fence on the right-hand side. Shortly he came to the first gate, and the electric torch he carried showed him in black-painted letters "The Firs," but he passed that gate as not being the one he wanted. The second gate he also passed, as it was inscribed "The Elms," and then he walked for quite a long way in the dense gloom to find Maranatha which stood by itself. Finally, he stumbled on the third gate, the inscription of which told him that he had reached his goal when he flashed the electric torch on to the black letters. Hall left his machine leaning against the fence in the dim light of the street lamp--for at this point there was one--and opened the gate to walk slowly up the path between the tangled herbage and under the dripping trees. It curved gradually--a cobble-stone path overgrown with weeds--until it ended in an open space before the house. Through the mists a light beamed from a fanlight over the door, and Hall, anxious to get home, rapped loudly in the approved style of the postman. There was no answer, although he waited for quite a minute, and he searched with his torch for the letterbox. Just as he found it and was about to slip in the letter the door suddenly opened. A stream of radiance poured forth to illuminate the untidy garden, and a man dashed out in a violent hurry. In his exit, he drove Hall against one of the brick pillars of the porch, and by the time the postman recovered his breath the man had disappeared, running swiftly.

"Here's a rum go," said Hall, speaking to himself. "I wonder if that's the blessed baronite, and what he's up to? Here!"--he raised his voice as he faced the open door--"anyone in? I can't wait here all night!"

There was no reply. The house preserved an ominous silence, which made Hall shiver, as Mrs. Mellin had done. Fearing that there was something wrong, and remembering the sinister chatter of the neighbourhood, Hall stepped hastily into the hall. It was of no great size, carpeted throughout, and furnished with a black oak settle on one side and a small rosewood table on the other, together with a hat-rack and an umbrella-stand. Doors were visible right and left; while beyond were stairs and a narrow passage beside them leading towards the back of the house. A swinging lamp illuminated the hall, and in its light everything appeared to be dusty and uncared for. Mrs. Vence certainly was not a particularly good housekeeper, or she would not have neglected her work in this fashion.

Astonished by the continued silence, the postman stood hesitating in the hall, while the sea-fog poured in like smoke through the open door. He did not know what to do. The sudden opening of the door, and the violent exit of the unknown man, and now this ominous silence disconcerted Hall. He had just opened his mouth to call again, when there came the sound of a long, faint sigh, and the door on the left opened slowly to reveal the tottering figure of an old woman. She gasped when she saw the postman, and suddenly appeared to gather strength as she moved forward to seize his arm.

"Where is he?" she demanded, faintly, and with a gasp. "Did you catch him?"