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Authors: Maureen Jennings
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course.”
Craig removed one of the inner desk drawers and reached his hand inside, turning the wooden screw that unlocked the secret compartment.
“Where is he?” asked James.
“Same place in the east upper corner.” He took a small leather billy out of the hidden drawer.
“What do you want me to do?” asked James.
Craig pointed to the mantel clock, a showy walnut piece with much ormolu trim.
“Stay in here until that chimes the quarter. I’m going to come around through the copse. When it’s time, open the curtains wide and stand in front of the window. Make a point of yawning and stretching. Then pick up Bess, get the lamp, and leave the room. Keep the lamp lit and go to the back door. Put on your boots and coat and step outside onto the patio a little ways. Make a show of getting Bess to relieve herself. Make a lot of noise about it. This is your chance to pretend you’re Edmund Keane.”
He put on his jacket and slipped the billy into his pocket.
“What if this fellow has a pistol?”
Craig shrugged. “You know what to do. Don’t stand in the light; keep moving around. I should be close enough by then to stop him, but if I shout, get out of the way fast.” Then, with a curt nod for his son, he left.
James sat down in the armchair and gulped back the rest of his whiskey. His pipe had gone out, but he didn’t attempt to light it. Bess jumped up beside him, and he stroked her ears. Ten minutes dragged by, and the clock started to strike. He got up, went to the window, and flung open the curtains. He couldn’t see anything outside, but knowing how visible he was made him uneasy. He did a quick yawn and stretch, snapped his fingers at Bess, and walked out of the room. At the back door he waited, listening, but everything was silent. It was almost one o’clock, and people were long in bed. He put on his overcoat and slipped into his boots, picked up the dog, and stepped out onto the patio. Hearing him, Tiny popped out of her kennel and barked. James moved into the shadows, put Bess on the ground, and called out clearly, “Hurry up, Bess, don’t take all night.” Then he started to walk up and down, clapping his hands. Tiny continued to bark, and Bess joined in, spinning round him.
“That’s enough, come on.” He went over to the kennel, which was at the end of the patio, persuaded the pug to come over, and fastened her to a long leash. “Be good, you two.” That done he returned to the back door, picked up his lantern, and went inside. He extinguished the light and waited in the hall. The dogs had quieted down and gone into their kennel, and it must have been only five minutes later when he heard the soft crunch of snow as somebody headed towards the door. His father entered.
“You didn’t wait long out there, James.”
“Sorry, Papa. Did you see him?”
“A glimpse. He was already moving away across Hernsworth’s field. Either finished his job or knew we were on to him. He wasn’t hurrying, so he probably swallowed your charade.”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s not too tall, shorter than you and me by a good foot, but he was wearing a mackintosh with the hood up, and I couldn’t tell what size he was, broad or slim.” Craig blew on his cold hands and began to take off his outdoor clothes. “I examined the ground where he’d been standing, but there was nothing to see: no tobacco juice, no cigar butts. However long he had been there, he was a patient man.”
“What do you think we should do, Papa.”
“For now, nothing.” For the first time, Craig grinned. “It is possible that we are making a mountain out of a molehill. He could be out there for a dozen reasons. He might be a shy suitor trying to catch a glimpse of Adelia for one thing. Or he could be a dog snatcher, looking to carry off our pride and joy.” He blew on his hands again. “Or he’s nosing into our business.”
They had been standing in the hall, speaking in low voices. Craig tapped his son
Craig removed one of the inner desk drawers and reached his hand inside, turning the wooden screw that unlocked the secret compartment.
“Where is he?” asked James.
“Same place in the east upper corner.” He took a small leather billy out of the hidden drawer.
“What do you want me to do?” asked James.
Craig pointed to the mantel clock, a showy walnut piece with much ormolu trim.
“Stay in here until that chimes the quarter. I’m going to come around through the copse. When it’s time, open the curtains wide and stand in front of the window. Make a point of yawning and stretching. Then pick up Bess, get the lamp, and leave the room. Keep the lamp lit and go to the back door. Put on your boots and coat and step outside onto the patio a little ways. Make a show of getting Bess to relieve herself. Make a lot of noise about it. This is your chance to pretend you’re Edmund Keane.”
He put on his jacket and slipped the billy into his pocket.
“What if this fellow has a pistol?”
Craig shrugged. “You know what to do. Don’t stand in the light; keep moving around. I should be close enough by then to stop him, but if I shout, get out of the way fast.” Then, with a curt nod for his son, he left.
James sat down in the armchair and gulped back the rest of his whiskey. His pipe had gone out, but he didn’t attempt to light it. Bess jumped up beside him, and he stroked her ears. Ten minutes dragged by, and the clock started to strike. He got up, went to the window, and flung open the curtains. He couldn’t see anything outside, but knowing how visible he was made him uneasy. He did a quick yawn and stretch, snapped his fingers at Bess, and walked out of the room. At the back door he waited, listening, but everything was silent. It was almost one o’clock, and people were long in bed. He put on his overcoat and slipped into his boots, picked up the dog, and stepped out onto the patio. Hearing him, Tiny popped out of her kennel and barked. James moved into the shadows, put Bess on the ground, and called out clearly, “Hurry up, Bess, don’t take all night.” Then he started to walk up and down, clapping his hands. Tiny continued to bark, and Bess joined in, spinning round him.
“That’s enough, come on.” He went over to the kennel, which was at the end of the patio, persuaded the pug to come over, and fastened her to a long leash. “Be good, you two.” That done he returned to the back door, picked up his lantern, and went inside. He extinguished the light and waited in the hall. The dogs had quieted down and gone into their kennel, and it must have been only five minutes later when he heard the soft crunch of snow as somebody headed towards the door. His father entered.
“You didn’t wait long out there, James.”
“Sorry, Papa. Did you see him?”
“A glimpse. He was already moving away across Hernsworth’s field. Either finished his job or knew we were on to him. He wasn’t hurrying, so he probably swallowed your charade.”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s not too tall, shorter than you and me by a good foot, but he was wearing a mackintosh with the hood up, and I couldn’t tell what size he was, broad or slim.” Craig blew on his cold hands and began to take off his outdoor clothes. “I examined the ground where he’d been standing, but there was nothing to see: no tobacco juice, no cigar butts. However long he had been there, he was a patient man.”
“What do you think we should do, Papa.”
“For now, nothing.” For the first time, Craig grinned. “It is possible that we are making a mountain out of a molehill. He could be out there for a dozen reasons. He might be a shy suitor trying to catch a glimpse of Adelia for one thing. Or he could be a dog snatcher, looking to carry off our pride and joy.” He blew on his hands again. “Or he’s nosing into our business.”
They had been standing in the hall, speaking in low voices. Craig tapped his son
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