The Guinea Stamp (18 page)

“If you are to use such unsuitable language,” she said, coldly, advancing towards the exit, “I think it high time for me to go. I wish you good night, Captain Jackson.”

“No, wait!” In two strides he was before her, blocking the way. “I am sorry if you should mislike my choice of words, but someone must tell you the truth! Cozened by that old battle axe of a grandmother of yours, you may slip into a marriage which can only be a source of disgust to one of your disposition! My lovely Joanna—”

She made a gesture of distaste at these words.

“Very well,” he said, in a quieter tone. “I promise I will not be flowery! But ask yourself if you can honestly give any better word to a marriage such as you contemplate at this moment! Do you truly consider it worthy of your highest ideals?”

“I have had little to do with such matters,” said Miss Feniton, sensibly. “It seems to me that a suitable match is capable of yielding as much happiness as one between two people in the throes of a violent passion, who may be as incompatible as—as night and day!”

“May I ask what you consider a suitable match?” he asked, gravely.

“One where rank and fortune are nearly equal, and there is not too much difference in age,” she answered, unconsciously quoting her grandmother. “Both parties, of course, should be of good character,” she added, on her own account. “And if the families are known to each other, so much the better.”

“A very sensible arrangement,” he approved, mockingly. “I think it provides for everything. Choosing a husband, then, partakes of something of the same nature as choosing a new bonnet? The colours and materials must tone with the rest of one’s wardrobe, and it must have just the right number of ribbons and fal-lals!”

“Captain Jackson,” said Miss Feniton, wearily. “This conversation is not leading us anywhere. I am very tired, and would like above all to return to the house. Will you kindly allow me to pass?”

He stood aside at once.

“I am sorry,” he said, contritely. “Of course, you must be dead tired. I will escort you back to the house—and promise to plague you with no more questions or homilies.”

She protested a little, insisting that she could go alone. He was not to be moved this time, however, and she was not altogether sorry. The prospect of the long walk back alone in the dark was not a pleasant one in her present state of mind.

He picked up his coat and placed it about her shoulders, paying no heed to her protests. He took the lantern in one hand, and offered her his other arm. She was about to refuse, but thought better of it, and placed her hand upon his sleeve.

They made the long walk back in silence, both wrapped in thoughts which apparently could not be shared. As they stood in the shadows close to the side door of the house, he released her arm, and, taking her hand, carried it gently to his lips. She permitted the gesture, but unresponsively. She felt unutterably weary.

She slipped the coat from about her shoulders, and handed it to him.

“I must go in. Thank you for accompanying me. Good night,” she whispered.

He watched her while she softly opened the door, and stepped into the passage. She turned for a second, smiled, then closed the door upon him.

He heard the bolts being gently eased into place, but it was some time before he turned to go.

THIRTEEN - The Trap

The grey day was not far advanced when Captain Jackson beached his boat on the thin strip of sand which had been exposed by the outgoing tide. There was no beauty here in Kerswell Cove on this cold morning of December; even the tawny Devon sand seemed drained of colour. He made towards the low, dark cave in the cliffs, and, flinging himself down on hands and knees, crawled laboriously into its depths. After a short distance, he was able to stand upright.

The interior of the cave was pitch black, but he could find his way comfortably along its narrow, winding ways with the aid of a small lantern which he carried attached to his belt. He had not far to go. The first bend in the path brought him to a wider section of the cave. Here he paused, turning towards the wall on his left hand. With the ease born of long practice, he reached up to a natural shelving of the rock, his hands closing around a small wooden box which rested there.

He lifted down the box, and fitted into the miniature lock a key which he drew from the pocket of his sea-stained breeches. He raised the lid, and inspected the contents of the box by the light of his lamp.

He saw at once that there were no dispatches inside. This did not surprise him, for it was understood that he would not be making the voyage to France for another few months, unless in case of urgent need. It was customary for him to remain in England until the contraband which he had lately brought over the water should have been disposed of, and the money for it collected. Only then would he set out for the shores of France once more.

There was, however, a thin strip of folded paper lying in the box. This could only be one of the orders for which he had of late looked in vain. His pulse quickened a little; did this mean that he was not suspect, after all? But perhaps it was not for him. He picked it up, and saw the letter “J” marked plainly on the cover.

Hastily, he unfolded the paper, reading its brief message by the light of his lamp. As usual, the text had been made up of words cut from a printed page, and stuck on to a sheet of plain paper.

“Go as soon as possible to Babbacombe,” he read. “Show your pass to the blacksmith there. You will be told what to do.”

His mouth twisted grimly. There was an ominous ring about the last sentence. He read the words again, then pocketed the paper, and replaced the box on the shelf, after relocking it.

He did not linger, then, but returned to the boat. He climbed in, and bent his back to the oars, taking a southerly course. It was some time later that he fetched up in a cove farther down the coast. This was larger than Kerswell Cove, and could be approached from the land by those who did not mind a steep descent down the cliff face, and a stiff scramble over rough, jagged rocks to reach the beach. Possibly in the summer months there may have been those who would have made the attempt, but at this season, the place was deserted.

Captain Jackson beached his boat behind one of the jutting rocks, and covered it carefully with a length of tarred canvas. Then he began the tricky ascent to the top of the cliffs.

A while later, panting a little, he crouched on the sparse grass above the cove. He surveyed the surrounding country carefully through a pair of perspective glasses. Satisfied at last that not a soul was in sight, he rose, and, keeping to the cliff edge, walked along it some distance until he espied a rough track. This he took, following it for almost a mile, until it dipped down to lead into another tiny cove, which lay in the hollow between one cliff and another. Here there were signs of habitation; two or three rude huts could be observed on the rough ground beyond the shingly beach. He raised his glasses, and scrutinized these buildings carefully as he approached them.

They were constructed chiefly of timber, and appeared to be derelict, one of them at least being roofless. He drew closer; putting away the perspective glasses, and keeping one hand ready on his knife. The first hut to which he came was a mere shell. Nevertheless, he was not prepared to take any chances. Having approached cautiously to the opening where, no doubt, a door had once stood, he peered tentatively inside. There was nothing at all to be seen other than a heap of rubble and miscellaneous rubbish on the floor.

Satisfied that he was leaving no lurking enemy here at his back, he made the same cautious approach to the second hut. This stood a little further back, at some distance removed from the first, and was obviously in much better condition. Before he could reach it, however, the figure of a man emerged, and stood motionless outside the building, as though awaiting his arrival.

Captain Jackson’s muscles tautened warningly, but he continued to approach with his habitual light step, poised for instant action, if need be. His hand rested upon the hilt of his knife.

At a distance of five yards from the hut, he relaxed. He had recognized the figure waiting at the door, and it was that of the man whom he had expected and hoped to meet here.

They nodded wordlessly to each other in greeting, and wasted no time in entering the hut. Inside were three other men, who evidently had lately been playing cards. A fourth was sleeping heavily on a pile of sacking at one corner, and never stirred. The rest looked up eagerly at Jackson’s entrance.

“He’s been on reconnaissance most of the night,” explained Jackson’s companion, with a nod at the recumbent form in the corner. “What news, Captain?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” parried Jackson.

“Precious little,” replied the first man, with a rueful shrug.

“They keep very close at Randall’s Farm, and even at night always have a man on sentry go—so it’s impossible to get near the house. We’ve tried various ruses for keeping the sentry out of the way for a bit, but so far without success. To overpower him is, of course, out of the question—we must not show our hand, or the alarm would be raised, and the birds would
Jackson nodded. “There must be a way,” he said, thoughtfully. “We’ll put our heads together over that presently. Has anyone so far been observed to visit this farm?”

“No one of note,” was the regretful reply. “Certainly no one who could be supposed to be their leader. The ‘brandy’ arrived some weeks since, as no doubt you were informed by Number Three—and they’ve had a quantity of timber delivered there by night on several occasions.”

“Timber!” Jackson started. “Did you say timber?”

“Why, yes,” replied the other, looking at him in surprise. “Can you see any particular significance in that? Damned if I can!”

“Perhaps,” said Jackson, frowning. He paused a moment, and when he spoke again, it was with an undertone of excitement. “What do you think of this, gentlemen?” he asked. “I believe I have the answer to our problem!”

The other men came to their feet, and gathered eagerly about him.

“The deuce you have!” exclaimed one of them.

“What is it?” asked the ringleader. “It will be worth something not to be working all the time in the dark!”

“I make no doubt that Number Three passed on to you the information that he had acquired from the other source?” asked Jackson. “You already know about the boat which they have constructed on similar lines to Fulton’s
Nautilus
?”

“What of that?” asked one, but the ringleader eyed Jackson thoughtfully, saying nothing for the moment.

“Do you think they’re doing something of the kind out at the farm, then?” asked another, doubtfully.

“Not that, but the other half of it,” said Jackson, somewhat cryptically. “It’s my belief, gentlemen, that they are constructing a number of torpedoes at Randall’s Farm!”

There was a stunned silence for a moment or two. Then the leader nodded slowly.

“You may be right,” he said. “Indeed, I begin to see your trend, and think it very likely. With a boat capable of submarine travel, and those damned infernals of Robert Fulton’s, they are all set for an attack by water! But what is their target? Can you answer that, Captain?”

Jackson shook his head.

“I can think of nothing hereabouts,” he answered, in a puzzled tone. “Perhaps one of you others has some notion?”

“Unless they want to blow up the quay at one of the fishing ports,” suggested one man, diffidently.

Jackson considered this for a moment in silence.

“Possible,” he decided slowly. “Though how it can benefit them is not easy to see, unless that is only part of a larger scheme Naturally, it would throw a scare into the neighbourhood concerned, but do you really suppose that such a motive would be weighty enough to justify the great expense and risk of discovery which their exploit must have entailed?”

The rest thought this over, and could not but have the same doubts.

“If perchance they were to destroy some of the fishing vessels,” went on Jackson, “it might have a more adverse effect upon the morale of the people hereabouts; but even that could—”

He broke off. It was evident from his expression that a momentous idea had occurred to him.

“Well?” asked the leader, seeing how it was.

“Suppose their target is not yet available?” asked Jackson, gravely.

“You mean—”

Jackson nodded. “They know—and we know—that sooner or later, the Fleet must put into Torbay. At this time of year, with frequent bad weather in the Channel, they may be expected any day. I’m willing to lay you any odds, gentlemen, that the Navy’s the target for which all these elaborate preparations are being made!”

“Damned if I don’t think you’re right!” exclaimed the leader.

The rest echoed him, their faces grave and concerned.

“What shall we do, then?” asked one. “Have these people placed under arrest, and blow their infernals sky high?”

“And let their chief go free?” asked Jackson. “We have no lead to him as yet, remember. All our watching of the rest has not given us a single clue to his identity. No, if we have conjectured aright, they can do no harm at present. The Fleet is still out there, guarding the Channel, and as you know, they cannot take their submarine vessel so far! It is capable of covering only very short distances, owing to the fact that it has to be propelled by hand. There can be no danger until the Fleet puts in: and that may give us just the interval we require to find this man.”

A short and heated debate followed this speech; but in the end the verdict was unanimous.

“And now I have something to tell you which may perhaps help us to that end,” continued Jackson. “I have today picked up this message. You may like to see it.”

He handed over the paper which he had taken from the box in the Cove. His companions scrutinized it carefully.

“Sounds deuced like a trap to me,” said one.

“Almost sure to be,” agreed another. “You won’t go, Captain?”

“I am of your opinion,” conceded Jackson. “Nevertheless, I believe I must go.”

There was a general outcry at this.

“What, put your head voluntarily into a noose?” asked the leader, incredulously. “Good God, you must be mad, man!”

“I see no other way of coming to grips with my man,” returned Jackson.

“But even this may bring you no nearer to him,” expostulated one of the others. “It’s my belief that the smith will have a bullet waiting for you, and that will be the end of the matter.”

“You may be right. But there is just a possibility that I am still trusted by them, and that they wish to allot me some part in this affair. If it should be so, I obviously cannot afford to miss such a chance.”

One of the men let out an oath. “You are willing to hazard your life on odds like that?” he asked. “Number Six is right, you know; you are indeed mad, and should be shut up in Bedlam with the best of ‘em! You can never hope to return alive from that smithy!”

“If it is their purpose to kill me, they can find easier ways than this,” replied the Captain, nothing daunted.

“I’m not so certain of that,” demurred the leader. “Unless they make an appointment of this sort, they have no means of coming at you, have they?”

“It is known that I visit Kerswell Cove in the first se’nnight of every month, however,” pointed out Jackson.

“Tell me, my dear chap, would you choose to lurk in that cave for seven days, with the sea washing into it at every high tide? I think not.”

Jackson grinned. “There is the cliff,” he said, without conviction. “But I think you have proved your point, Number Five. There is not a shred of cover in the vicinity, and they have no means of knowing on which of the seven days I may arrive. Very well, then, they may have made this appointment with the object of putting a period to my existence.”

“And so?” asked Number Five, challengingly.

“And so we must make a plan,” replied Jackson. “I never had the slightest intention of walking blindly into any trap of theirs, I can tell you! I have it in mind that there may be a way to discover just what kind of a reception they have in store for me at Babbacombe. That will mean delaying my visit there for a day or two. Listen, and give me the benefit of your invaluable opinions.”

They put their heads together.