The Guinea Stamp (22 page)

“I have something to say to you, Miss Feniton,” he began, presently, with rather less than his customary assurance. “Though how to begin, puzzles me somewhat, I must confess!”

Her heart missed a beat. Perhaps, after all, he was not about to speak of their encounter in Dorlais’s room that morning. This sounded to her ominously like the beginning of a declaration.

“This man Masterman,” he went on, abruptly. “What is he to you?”

She was considerably startled. “You have no right to ask such a question,” she pointed out, after a pause.

“But I wish to have the right!” he said, emphatically. “Miss Feniton—Joanna—”

Her eyes widened a little, but she gave him no help.

“You must allow me to tell you,” he said, more quietly, “how very much I admire and respect you. Will you do me the honour to become my wife?”

She looked full into his face. There was no trace now of the laughing gallant who had continually jested with her during his stay at Shalbeare House. His grey eyes were deep and serious. She took a quick breath.

“I—I scarce know what to say—”

“At least you cannot say that it is so sudden,” he remarked with a trace of his former manner. “You must be aware that I came to Shalbeare House with the intention of making you an offer.”

“I will not pretend to you,” she said, slowly. “I did know, of course.”

“We have no disapproval to contend with,” he remarked, a certain irony in his tone. “Both my parents and your grandparents desire the match. Everything is as it should be in that respect.”

“Ye—es,” she answered, hesitantly.

“So you see,” he said, watching her closely, “you owe it to me to say if Captain Masterman means anything to you.”

“You are thinking of what happened this morning,” she said, quickly, not sorry to change the subject. “I know that you found me—us—in a situation of—of—seeming intimacy—but, believe me, things were not what they may have appeared.”

“Might I venture to ask for an explanation? You are not obliged to give one, of course, if you do not wish.”

She hesitated for a few moments, thinking what answer to make.

“I—it is difficult to explain. He and I went quite separately to Mr. Dorlais’s room, for a purpose that—for something which—”

She stopped, completely at a loss. He continued to watch her face and its changing expressions, but made no remark.

“It is a secret,” she said, at last, desperately. “I cannot tell you more. But this much you may know—there was no connivance in our meeting there, neither is there any attachment between Captain Masterman and myself. I think I owe it to you to inform you of that much, at least.”

He nodded. “I wondered, seeing you so close together,” he said, apologetically. “Watching your parting earlier today, too, the same doubts assailed me. Whatever may be your feeling towards the gentleman, I think that he is certainly in love with you.”

“Perhaps,” replied Joanna, uncomfortably. “It cannot signify—he means nothing to me. Are you satisfied now, sir? For Grandmama will be wanting her shawl.”

“Not quite,” he said, smiling a little. “You have not yet given me your answer.”

“Oh!”

Dismay spread over Joanna’s countenance. She was silent for a while.

“Must I answer you now, sir?” she asked, in a timid tone.

He looked a trifle chagrined.

“Not if you do not wish to do so. Perhaps I have been too hasty in speaking—but I could not wait—”

He broke off, and appeared to be labouring under some emotion.

“I cannot quite understand you!” said Joanna, impulsively. “So far, you have never given the smallest sign of being—of being—”

“Attached to you, you would say? No, perhaps not. I suppose I care as little as any man for making a parade of my emotions, and we have been seldom left alone together of late. You cannot bring yourself to believe, then, that I care for you? Is it such a new idea to you?”

“I have no wish to give you pain, Mr. Cholcombe, but I must insist that it is. We have had a vast deal of amusement together, and have been from the first on the easiest of terms: but as to anything of a deeper nature; I can only say that I have seen no sign of it.”

“No,” he said, rising abruptly and pacing uneasily about the room. “No, of course not: I forget—”

He broke off, and swung towards her.

“Do I understand that you do not positively wish to reject me, Miss Feniton?”

The tone was controlled and formal. She shook her head.

“No; I—in a way, I was prepared for this, and perhaps not sufficiently ready to hear your proposals. I need a little time, sir—”

“You shall have it.” He spoke shortly. “I will say nothing for the moment to your grandparents. When can I come for my answer, Miss Feniton?”

“You mean to go away again?” she asked, alarmed. Her grandmother would not like this, she knew.

He nodded brusquely. “You must see that I could not remain, under the circumstances. I shall leave tomorrow. Will a se’ennight suffice, do you think, to show you your mind? It shall be longer, if you wish.”

She gave him one of her compassionate looks. The soft hazel eyes twisted his heart.

“I will tell you by then,” she promised, softly.

He bowed low, and opened the door for her to walk out.

SEVENTEEN - The Enemy Revealed

A thin mist lay over the Bay, obscuring the lights on shore. The ship rocked gently at anchor, her timbers creaking slightly. Down in the cabin, two men faced each other across the table. One was wearing the uniform of His Majesty’s Navy: it bore an imposing amount of gold braid. The other was a fisherman. He was bareheaded, his black hair curling crisply back from a face that looked curiously pale in the light of the lantern which hung from the rafters.

“You really mean it?” asked the officer, incredulously. “I can believe this fantastic story?”

“No doubt about it at all, sir,” replied the younger man, standing stiffly at attention.

“Well, I’m damned!”

The officer fingered his chin thoughtfully.

“And when can we expect this visitation?” he asked, at last. “Any notion of that, eh?”

“Not as yet, sir. We’re working on it.”

“Humph! There isn’t all the time in the world! Mind, I realize it’s difficult—”

“The difficult we do at once, sir: the impossible may take a little longer.”

The mahogany-coloured face before him relaxed into a smile.

“Yes, well—that’s the spirit! Of course, we shan’t be here for long, I trust. They may not arrive in time to catch us. Still, best to be prepared. We’ll plan a reception committee.”

“May I ask what your scheme is, sir?”

“Eh?” The older man had relapsed into thought, and now came to with a jerk. “Oh, yes—certainly. Nets, I think, don’t you? Go fishin’ for ‘em, y’know! Have to do the thing with caution, or we may frighten ‘em off. I’ll consult the others, of course, but I’ll lay any odds that’s the best way—nets. Tell you what, Jackson—or whatever that dam’ silly pseudonym of yours is—I fancy they’ll get hoist with their own petard this time, eh? What d’ye say?”

Jackson replied that he thought it inevitable. He refrained from remarking that the idea of nets as a protection against the submarine had also occurred to him. He mentioned that he must be on his way before long.

“Got to go, then, have you?” asked the officer. “Get on with the impossible, I suppose?” He laughed briefly. “Not bad, that,” he conceded. “But is there anything we can do to help, my boy? There are enough of us, and my fellows are pretty sick of inaction, give you my word! If only these Frogs would come out and fight!”

Captain Jackson commiserated with him. “There is one thing sir,” he said. “There’s a man called Kellaway—a Colonel in the Volunteers—”

The Naval man snorted. “Toy soldier, eh?”

“No sir, this is a Regular Army man, retired. Good sort of fellow. I need his help, but he does not know me—at any rate, not in this capacity. A word from you, however—”

“You shall have it. Give me his direction. What exactly is it you require?”

Jackson briefly explained his needs. The officer nodded, and made a quick note.

“When?” he asked, shortly.

“There is some urgency,” replied Jackson. “I propose to step into a hornet’s nest before nightfall tomorrow. By that time, I must know if the Colonel will be ready and waiting. My plans depend upon it.”

“He will,” promised the other, “even if we have to keelhaul him. I’ll send at first light, then, Captain, and let you know the outcome. Where can I reach you?”

Jackson gave directions for reaching the nearby cove where his friends were encamped.

“But you will most likely see me back here again, sir, before dawn—with your visitor.”

“Visitor?” The bushy eyebrows shot up. “Ah, yes, the fellow you want me to clap in irons. Got any useful information out of him?”

“He confirms all that we have guessed, but has little to add. He denies all knowledge of the identity of their leader—and in this I believe him to be telling the truth. One thing he has revealed, and that is that this leader himself will be in the submarine when the attack is made.”

“By God, we have him, then!” exclaimed the officer. “We shall net a fine catch there, Captain!”

“To be sure, sir. That is why we have allowed matters to proceed so far. To let their plan come to fruition seemed to us the only way to smoke out this man, and destroy once for all time this nest of spies in the West of England.”

The other man nodded. “Damned if you don’t have the best of it, Jackson,” he said, enviously. “If only we could see some action at sea!”

“Your time will come, sir, never fear! Sooner or later, they must come out and make a stand. When that day comes, I trust I’ll be with you.”

“There is no man I’d sooner have in my command,” was the reply. “Well, bring up your spy, and we’ll see him safely stowed away.”

*

“It is all quite settled, then?” asked Number Six. “You are to go alone, Jackson?”

“Ask yourself, my dear chap! There is no cover in a place like the village of Babbacombe. Besides, there can be no danger; we are aware of their plan.”

“But suppose they change their minds?” asked Number Six, dubiously. “It may somehow leak out that we are holding one of their men, and they may change over to another scheme.”

Jackson shook his head. “I should suppose it to be too late for that. It is some days since I first picked up the orders, do not forget, and their arrangements must have been already made then. Our captive told us that it is no part of the plan to shoot me out of hand. Their way is a deal more clever than that; it is all perfectly legal, on the face of it.”

“But they must hold you there until their chief comes,” protested Number Six. “Lord knows I’ve no wish to cast you into the doldrums, Captain, but there’s no saying what state you may be in by then.”

“Wonder how it is that they’re now so certain you’re no longer on their side of the fence?” asked another man, slowly. “By all the evidence, they were uncertain in the matter until very recently. What’s happened to confirm their suspicions?”

“I fancy I can tell you that,” said Jackson. “I can hazard a guess, too, as to who this chief of theirs will turn out to be.”

They gathered round him eagerly at this.

“Some of you may chance to know the name,” he said, and told it.

“Good God, impossible!” exclaimed one of them.

“Yes, I am a little acquainted with him, and—but are you sure?”

Jackson shook his head. “I cannot say that. But I have the strongest grounds for my suspicion.”

The other man whistled. “But why in the world should a man like that take such a course?”

“I can only conjecture. But now we must get some sleep. The night is already far advanced, and there’s brisk work ahead of us tomorrow.”

They did not sleep, though, but played cards until the first streaks of dawn appeared low over the grey, turbulent sea. Only then did they lie down, fully clothed, for a few hours, leaving one man to keep watch.

They were awakened by him just short of nine o’clock.

“There’s someone approaching from the cliff,” he said, quickly.

“It may only be the messenger I’m expecting,” said Jackson, leaping to his feet. “Give me the perspective glasses, someone.”

They were quickly put into his hand. He stood at the door of the hut, carefully scanning the track which led from the cliff.

“Would a man reach Totnes and back so soon?” asked one man, doubtfully, coming to his side.

“Four hours?” asked Jackson, his eyes still upon the advancing figure. “Egad, man, we’re speaking of the Navy!”

The other grunted: he was an Army man, himself.

“I can’t be sure,” went on Jackson, frowning. “He’s not in uniform, of course—”

He drew the other man back within the shelter of the door, and closed it.

“Let him knock,” he said, “He’s outnumbered, be he friend or foe.”

The minutes passed, tension mounting. Number Six produced a pistol, and trained it on the door. Jackson nodded, his hand poised on the latch.

Footsteps sounded clearly on the stony track outside. They halted, and there followed a quiet tapping on the door. Three knocks, then silence; this was followed by a single, sustained knock.

Jackson suddenly flung back the door. Number Six stepped forward smartly, covering the newcomer with his pistol.

“The password,” said a voice familiar to all, “is Horatio!”

Number Six lowered the pistol, and laughed. The rest, after one startled glance at the newcomer, followed suit.

“My dear chap,” protested Jackson, clapping the visitor on the shoulder, “not that fungus again!”

“I know what it is with you,” retorted the newcomer. “You’re envious—you couldn’t wear a beard, not with those features. Come to that, I can’t think how you contrive to go on with them at all—but, there, everyone has his trials.”

“Come to the point, Number One. I must say, I never looked to see you as our messenger! Is everything arranged?”

“As right as a trivet. Mark you, Kellaway almost went off into an apoplexy—was for making an arrest there and then, once we’d managed to convince him of the truth.”

“I should imagine he’s a difficult man to restrain. How did you manage it?”

“Acquit me. The Admiral made no trouble of it at all. Kellaway is now standing by, ready for marching orders.”

“Then there is nothing else to hinder me,” remarked Jackson, with a sigh of relief. “Except a little matter of breakfast.”

This remark found general approval, and the matter was attended to with dispatch. While they were busy eating, Jackson gave a few last minute orders.

“Let me come with you,” said Number One. “Something may go awry, and at least there’ll be two of us to meet it.”

Captain Jackson shook his head. “If anything’s to go wrong, then it had better be for one alone,” he said, firmly. “More cannot be spared.”

After the rough meal was over, Jackson made his simple preparations for departure. They were soon concluded: then he drew Number One aside.

“There’s just a remote possibility,” he said, in a low tone, “that this affair may finish otherwise than we have planned. If that should be so, and you should know for certain that I am not to return, will you deliver this for me?”

He pressed into the other’s hand a letter. Glancing down at it, Number One saw that it was directed to Miss Feniton.

“I will,” he said abruptly, frowning. “Good fortune go with you—Peter.”

He lowered his head, and they clasped hands for a moment in silence.

Then Jackson broke away, bidding an easy farewell to the others. That done, he left the hut, and turned his steps inland.

It was not quite an hour later that he came to the village of Babbacombe. He glanced sharply about him as he made for the smithy, but the sleepy little hamlet seemed deserted.

The door of the forge stood open, so that he could see the glow of the fire, and hear the blows of the smith’s hammer on the anvil. He hesitated for a second on the threshold, then, squaring his shoulders, walked inside.

The smith at once left his work, and came forward, a hammer in his hand. Jackson eyed this warily, keeping his own hand on the knife in his belt. The smith was a burly man, after the way of his kind, but it seemed that his immediate intentions were not aggressive. He threw down the hammer, and looked inquiringly at his visitor.

“I came to show you this,” said Jackson, and produced the French victory medallion.

The man inspected it carefully, then motioned with his hand to a door leading through to the back of the house. He handed back the token, picked up his hammer, and went on with his task which Jackson had interrupted, without uttering a single word.

The Captain hesitated again. A man needs his full share of courage to walk knowingly into a trap. Then he went forward resolutely, and opened the door. It closed quietly behind him.

He found himself in a small, dim room, sparsely furnished. He looked about him sharply; there appeared to be no one there. He noticed another door at the far end of the room. This he tried, but found it locked.

He waited for perhaps ten minutes, not knowing quite what action to take. A strong instinct warned him to make his escape, while he yet had the chance. He repressed the feeling sternly. He had come as far as this in order to confirm his suspicions as to the identity of the man who was at the head of this spy ring. He must not falter now—and, anyway, no doubt the tension was all part of their game.

At last, he heard the smith’s hammer cease its metallic din. He waited, expectantly.

Behind him, his quick ears caught the slight creak of the door which led into the forge. He swung round quickly, his knife half drawn from its sheath.

A man stood there in the opening. Jackson knew him for one of the agents whom he had brought over from France to do the enemy’s work on the Devon coast. He shut the door carefully behind him, and stood facing Jackson, a mocking smile on his mouth.

“Ah,
mon
capitaine.
But it is enchanting to meet you again! We began to fear that you could not come,” he said, in French.

“My apologies for the delay,” replied Jackson, speaking in the same language with a faultless accent, “but I have been extremely occupied of late. As you doubtless know, I have other duties to perform.”