CHAPTER VI.

MARTHA’S LODGER.
OTH Frank and I overslept ourselves next B morning, and as we were hurriedly dressing, in a frantic endeavour to make up lost time, we heard the front door bell ring, and immediately afterwards Dr. Naismith called to Tommy, the stable boy, to bring round his gig at once.
“Some one wanting father in a hurry,” announced Frank, wrestling with his tie, which had got knotted at the back of his neck. “My word, he must be bad. Look how the pater is making Molly go!”
We watched the dogeart spinning down the avenue and out on to the road towards the village, and then, finishing our toilet, hurried downstairs. Although breakfast had been in for some time, we found that Mrs. Naismith had only just commenced, and immedi- ately we appeared Nora turned to us with a scared
face.
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“O boys, just fancy!” she exclaimed. “Poor old Peter has had a fit, and father has gone off to see him.”
“Peter!” repeated Frank in dismay; “why, he was all right yesterday when we left him. When did it happen ?”
“Late last night,’ replied his mother. “It seems that after you saw him he must have gone down to the village for some reason. At any rate, Bobby, the policeman, met him on the road, and, noticing that he appeared to be ill, persuaded him to go home, and accompanied him to his house. Unfortunately, Bobby, who intended to speak to your father about it, was called away to Carnswaithe in connection with this false coin business, and had to spend the night there. On his way home this morning he looked in at Peter’s cottage, which he found empty. Guessing at once that the old man would be up at the castle, he proceeded there, and found the side door open and poor Peter lying unconscious in the billiard-room. How long he had been there it is impossible to say, but Bobby immediately dispatched a neighbour to summon your father, while he himself carried the unconscious man back to his house.”
“Isn't it dreadfully sad ?” said Nora tearfully ; “and
MARTHA’S LODGER. 87
to think that only yesterday he was going about with us all right.”
“Yes, it is beastly,” responded Frank, seating him- self. “Do you think he will die, mother ?”
“T hope not; but you must not take it to heart so much, Nora dear. Remember Peter was a very old man, and in the course of nature could not be expected to live many years more. For some time © your father has been anxious about him, fearing an apoplectic seizure, such as this appears to be; but, in any case, you are not to blame in any way for what has happened.”
“T know, mother, b—but I can’t help it,” sobbed Nora, fairly breaking down.
Frank appeared equally miserable, and altogether it was the most doleful and silent meal I had partaken of since coming to Ivy Cottage. When it was finished Mrs. Naismith took Nora with her, to occupy her thoughts in some household duties, and we boys were left to ourselves, Unable to settle down to anything, we hung about near the house, awaiting the doctor’s return. Bouncer was let off his chain, much to his delight; Donald the pony was visited and petted, and even Nora’s despised rabbits and chickens came in
for some attention. At last, when there was still no
88 MARTHA’S LODGER.
sign of the dogcart, Frank announced his intention of going down to the village to visit old Martha, and we started along the road. As we descended the hill we met Win Kee carrying some parcels, and rather to my surprise, as we had not spoken to him since the episode near the station, he came up and accosted us.
“ Good-morning,” he began, touching his cap.
“Good-morning, Win Kee,” said Frank, always ready to air his pigeon English. “You hear about old Peter? He very ill; take fit; doctor go to see him.”
“T hear,” replied the Chinaman, nodding his head, “he very bad? no can talk ?”
He asked this anxiously, as though the answer meant much to him, and a look of disappointment crept over his face when Frank shook his head.
“The doctor not back yet. I can’t tell you.”
The Chinaman touched his cap again and moved on, but it seemed to me that he looked nervous and frightened, and I mentioned the fact to my companion.
“Qh, he’s just upset about hearing how bad Peter is,” said Frank carelessly. “He was a great favourite with every one. Why should he be frightened ze
“JT don’t know, but—”
MARTHA’S LODGER. 89
“ What on earth is it now ?” asked Frank irritably; “every time you meet the poor beggar you seem to find something against him.”
“Well, I don’t know there is anything against him, but he puzzles me a bit. Do you know, he doesn’t speak like what I remember the coolies used to do. His accent is different, more like a Cockney; and the words he uses—I can’t exactly explain.”
“Oh, rot!” was the contemptuous reply. But further conversation was interrupted by a loud barking behind us, and turning round, we beheld Bouncer making vicious darts at the Chinaman, who was keeping him at bay with difficulty.
“ Bouncer!” shouted Frank, “come here, sir;” and as the dog paid no attention to his cries, he ran back and seized him by the collar.
“T don’t know what’s taken him,” panted Frank, as he returned hauling along the unwilling retriever, who kept looking backwards as though he were anxious not to let his quarry escape. “I never knew him fly at Win Kee like that before—bBe quiet, sir.”
In this fashion we entered the village, and reached
old Martha’s shop. Frank was stooping to fasten
id. BES
90 MARTHA’S LODGER.
his handkerchief to the dog’s collar when some one, coming quickly out of the door, nearly tripped over him.
“Hullo! I beg your pardon. Not hurt, I hope? That’s a nice retriever you have. What do you call him ?”
“ Bouncer,” said Frank, picking himself up; “he belongs to my sister.”
“ Bouncer ! here, good dog,” said the stranger, patting the puppy, who, after a cautious sniff, licked his hand and began wagging his tail—* Don’t tie him up; it spoils a dog’s temper.”
The speaker, a small, sharp-featured man with a dark beard, kept glancing at us all the time with his keen gray eyes, which somehow seemed to take in every detail of our appearance. After a few more words and a parting pat on the head to Bouncer, he stepped into the street, and, with a quick glance round, started off at a brisk rate.
“T wonder who that cove is,” said Frank, looking after him; “I’m sure he’s quite a stranger. How he looked at us! Beastly cheek I call it to stare at a chap like that. It gave me quite a creepy feeling, as if I had done something wrong—just what
one feels during an interview with the doctor at
MARTHA’S LODGER. 91
Brotherton. Perhaps Martha knows who he is. Come on, and we’ll ask her.”
We found that old worthy seated behind the counter placidly knitting, while her small assistant lifted down and dusted jars of sweets and stores nearly as big as herself. Martha looked up over her spectacles as we entered, and rose stiffly to her feet.
“Eh, Master Frank, I’m main glad to see you and your friend,” she said, laying down her knitting and coming forward. “I hope you are enjoying your holidays.”
“Thanks, Martha; we’re’ having quite a decent time. How are you keeping? Any more lodgers since we were here last ?”
Etiquette demanded that this stock question should be put before further news was exchanged, but the reply was altogether unexpected and startling.
“ Ay, I’ve got another lodger, Master Frank,” said the old dame proudly, “and a real nice gentleman he is. He walked into the shop yesterday evening with a bag in his hand, and says to me quite quiet like, ‘I see you take lodgers, I want a room for a week or two. What do you charge?’ I was that flustered, me taking him for an ordinary customer
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like, that, will you believe me, Master Frank, at first I could say nothing.”
The idea of old Martha being at a loss for words was indeed a novel one, and would, in other circum- stances, have caused a nine days’ wonder in the village.
“‘T live quiet, says he, ‘and want rest, having been ill; but if your room is let, why then I must go elsewhere. ‘And where else would you stay in Peddlington but with old Martha?’ says I, at that finding my tongue. ‘A bedroom all to yourself, with a parlour to sit in, and all cooking done, is what my last lodger had, and at fifteen shillings a week you are welcome to that. Maybe it was only thirteen shillings and sixpence he did pay, now I think on it; but my gentleman never so much as asked another question. ‘That will suit me very well,’ says he, ‘and [Pll pay the first week in advance.’ So in he walks, and a quieter, more respectable gentleman nobody could ask for.”
She paused for want of breath, and looked at us to see the effect of her words.
“ Another lodger!” gasped Frank in astonishment ; ‘why, Martha, that is splendid. What sort of a chap is he?”
MARTHA’S LODGER. 93
“A small, thin gentleman with a white face; but then he has been ill. said it was. A real gentleman with a beautiful black beard and—”
“A black beard!’’ exclaimed Frank. “Does he wear a slouch hat with a muffler round his neck ?”’
“Ay, that he do. ‘I have to be careful, Martha,’ says he, ‘after that touch of ’flenzy.’”’
“Why, that is the chap who nearly fell over me at the door just now! I wondered where he came from.”
“A country gentleman he is, so he told me, and that pleasant and affable. When I told him about poor Peter this morning at breakfast he spoke so nice, and asked me all about him and the castle. Poor Peter must be mortal bad, Master Frank. I see the doctor driving east this three hours back, and I says to myself, ‘Peter’s time’s come. Old Martha saw it in his face this while back.”
The old dame shook her head solemnly, with a sort of gloomy triumph at the fulfilment of her prophecy, and Frank plied her with questions regard- ing Peter’s seizure, but without eliciting anything further than we already knew. Martha’s thoughts were wholly taken up with her new lodger, and
94, MARTHA’S LODGER.
seeing this Frank at length bade her farewell. Having purchased a packet of bull’s eyes and routed out Bouncer from under the counter, where he was enjoying titbits secretly offered him by the minute Sally, we took our leave and returned home to lunch. Dr. Naismith had arrived just before us, bringing the sad news that poor old Peter was dead.
“He never recovered consciousness,” said the doctor, snatching a hasty meal before starting out on his usual round of visits, “and passed away peacefully an hour ago. Once or twice he muttered something about a ‘key’ which neither Bobby, the policeman, nor I could catch. Probably the faithful old fellow was dreaming of his duties at the castle; but though Bobby looked through the bunches of keys, not one seemed to be missing.”
“Poor old Peter!” said Mrs. Naismith sadly, while we three children sat awed and silent at the thought of death—* poor old Peter! we shall all miss him very much. Had you any uncertainty as to the cause of his illness ?”
“None whatever. Apoplexy, without a doubt, and only to be expected in a man of his bujld and temperament. Now I must be off again, and shan’t be in till late.”
“ MARTHA’S LODGER. 95
He stooped to kiss Nora as he passed her chair.
“Don’t fret about your old friend, dear,” he said, gently stroking her hair; “he suffered no pain. Peter did his appointed work faithfully on earth, and was quite ready to meet his Maker.”
With a kindly nod to Frank and myself he passed out of the room, but paused on the threshold to address his wife. “If you can spare me a minute, dear,” he said, “there is something I should like to tell you, which I think you had better know.”
Mrs. Naismith rose and followed him into the hall, closing the door, and shortly afterwards we heard the gig drive off. All that afternoon Frank moped about the house in a very dejected mood, while Nora stayed with Mrs. Naismith. Left to myself, I assisted in the stables, and when everything there was in spick-and- span order Ii fell to cutting the grass with the mower. ‘This proved to be hard work, and I had reached the lower part of the lawn, and with head down was shoving away, when a cautious “Hi” reached my ears from the road just over the hedge. Looking up suddenly, I was startled to find myself gazing into Win Kee’s inscrutable coun- tenance.
“You can tell how old Peter now?” he asked in
96 MARTHA’S LODGER.
a cautious voice, touching his hat in a perfunctory manner,
“Peter died this morning,” I answered, wondering anew at the Chinaman’s persistent interest in the old gate-keeper and rather resenting it.
“He no speak?” The man’s evident anxiety was revealed by the eager way he blurted out the question.
“No; he never regained consciousness,” and at the words an unmistakable look of relief flashed over Win Kee’s sombre face. Without further ado he turned on his heel and left me to complete my self-appointed task. What was he driving at I wondered, setting to work again; and what difference did it make to him whether poor old Peter lived or died? The more I puzzled over the matter the more perplexing it appeared, till suddenly my thoughts took another turn. How was it that he had understood me perfectly well, although I had made no attempt to put my words into pigeon English, and how came it that his own speech sounded so unlike that of any coolie I had ever heard? Granted, as Frank pointed out, that Win Kee had now been several years in England and must have picked up much of the
language, yet the man spoke in a manner altogether
MARTHA’S LODGER. 97
different from any of his countrymen, and the fact impressed me more every time we met. By the time the lawn had been cut I was no nearer the solution of the problem, and for the time being I gave it up, resolving to broach the subject to the other members of the Sherlock Holmes Society at the first convenient opportunity. But for the present the society appeared to be forgotten. The president, apparently discouraged by the failure of his first efforts, made no reference to future plans, and appeared to be content to drift back into the humble réle of an ordinary member of society.
Qld Peter’s funeral was attended by Dr. Naismith and most of the villagers, and life at Ivy Cottage resumed its usual quiet routine, till one day at break- fast the doctor announced his intention of going up to London the same afternoon.
“Dr. Treherne is to read a paper, on a subject in which I am greatly interested, at the College of Physicians this evening,” he explained to his wife, “and I should also like to consult my old friend Professor Jefferson with regard to Colonel Leighton. The colonel’s condition has caused me some anxiety lately, and occasionally he seems to have glimpses of
memory.” (1,471) 7
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“Poor man!” said Mrs. Naismith, “it seems almost cruel to hope that he will ever recover sufficiently to realize the terrible loss he has sustained. Do you expect to be kept in town any time?”
“Not longer than I can help. I hope to catch the 5.30 train to-morrow evening, but there are one or two business matters to be settled which may detain me, and in that case I shall wire. I under- stand also that somebody’s birthday is approaching, and parents in these cases are expected to do their duty—eh, Nora?”
“O father, are you going to get my present?” exclaimed Nora, greatly excited. ‘“ What is it to be?”
“Guess,” said Dr. Naismith, smiling at his wife. “T'll give you all one guess.”
“A writing case,” said Nora, after a moment’s thought.
“ A new bicycle,” cried Frank.
“A bee clock,” I hazarded.
Dr. Naismith shook his head. “Humphrey is hottest; but you must just wait till the 20th and see. Now, good-bye. I hope you will all behave and not get into mischief or form any more secret societies in my absence.” |
Frank flushed at the reference to secret societies,
MARTHA’S LODGER. 99
but made no remark, and we followed the gig down the avenue and waved our hats to the doctor as he drove off. We spent the day harvesting in a field close by where the corn was being cut, and Mrs. Naismith joined us there for tea, and we had a jolly time. Frank was unusually silent all the evening, and I could see that he was hatching one of his great schemes. Instead of the usual flow of conver- sation that I was accustomed to when we retired to our bedroom, he merely grunted in answer to my remarks, and at last I gave it up as a bad job, and jumping into bed soon fell fast asleep.
A wet sponge, skilfully aimed, woke me with a sudden start next morning, and when I had cleared the water out of my eyes, I saw my chum standing by my bedside.
“Hush, Watson,” he began, in the tragic tones he adopted when filling the réle of the great Sherlock— “hush; I have an idea!”
A pillow, well aimed, cut him short; but after a rousing scrimmage we seated ourselves panting on the edge of the bed, and the president proceeded to explain his great idea.
“T’ve been thinking over our society business,” he
said, “and I think we went the wrong way about
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it last time. Sherlock Holmes never took Mycroft about with him, but only went to her—I mean himn— occasionally, just to buck him up a bit; and even Watson was only dragged in at the last, when every- thing had been discovered.”
This was certainly a new idea to me. Hitherto it had always been my impression that the long- suffering Watson had been ruthlessly forced to accom- pany the immortal detective on many a fruitless and unnecessary expedition. But Frank was running the society, so I held my tongue and merely nodded.
“You remember that time he was after that dog, the Hound of the Basket—something or another, he went off by himself and lived in a hut and found out all about it. And then the time he turned himself into a beggar and sat in the gutter he found out all about that too, and you see he was always alone. I expect he could think harder by himself; and so I’m going to try his dodge and see if I can’t find out something more about the ghost at the castle. If I don’t, you and Nora—Mycroft, I mean—can have a shot.”
“What are you going to do? You're not going to live at the castle by yourself surely ?”
“Rather not; I’m just going up after breakfast
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to look around a bit for clues. If I’m late for lunch, you must put the mater off asking questions about where I am and—by Jove! there’s the break- fast bell; we'd better buck up.”
The usual frantic dressing scramble ensued, and we tore downstairs, Frank fastening his tie as he went.
“ First,” he shouted, bursting into the dining-room, where Mrs. Naismith and Nora were already seated at the table.
“Hardly first, Frank,” said his mother, kissing him ; “you'll have to rise earlier to achieve that distinction. —Good-morning, Humphrey; I’m afraid he’s leading you into bad habits.”
“Good-morning ; I’m afraid it’s my fault as much as Frank’s. We were talking, and quite forgot the time.”
“Well, it is holiday time, and I suppose we shall
have to forgive them again, Nora. Boys will be
boys.” “JT think they are horrid mean things,” said Nora indignantly. “When I want to have a nice long
sleep in the morning, they come thumping at my door wanting me to play cricket or something, and
won't go away till I get up. Humphrey promised
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to get up early this morning and help me to move the hutches and give the rabbits a run, and instead of that he is later than ever.”
“Whew!” whistled Frank; “so he did. I heard him promise. Why didn’t you waken us?”
“Tm awfully sorry,” I said lamely; “I forgot all about it.”
“J thumped on your door till I was tired, and threw gravel at your window, but you never answered.”
“ Never mind, Nora,” said her mother, smiling ; “ I’m sure Humphrey will help you with your rabbits this morning if you ask him, and perhaps Frank will assist also.”
“Tm going a bicycle ride,’ announced Frank, glancing at me, “but will be back to lunch. Two are quite enough to prevent these tame fat rabbits going very far. They’re overfed.”
“They're not,’ was Nora’s indignant reply; “I only give them two cabbages and a lettuce each day.”
“ And some oatmeal, and tea leaves, and dandelions, and clover, and—”
“Now, Frank, don’t tease,” interposed Mrs.
Naismith ; “it is better to overfeed pets a little than
MARTHA’S LODGER. 103
to starve them.—Now, children, if you have finished you can go.— Don’t be late for lunch, Frank. Where are you going ?”
.* Oh, just round about,” he answered vaguely as we made a rush for our caps.
Frank’s bicycle was not kept in the best condition, but after much oiling and pumping of tyres he started off, and I meekly followed Nora to the scene of our labours. My companion was inclined to be grumpy, and feeling that I had merited her displeasure, I did my best to atone for past misdeeds. The two rabbits, Poacher and Scamp, were set free in the open grass field behind the house, while we set to work cleaning the hutch and removing it to a fresh piece of ground. The wire fencing enclosing the run had next to be taken up and placed in its new position, and by the time this had been accomplished satis- factorily all traces of the late occupants had dis- appeared.
“Oh, I hope they haven’t run away,” said Nora anxiously. “Scamp never goes very far, but Poacher is so cunning.”
“We'll soon find them,” I replied cheerfully. “You take that side of the field and I’ll take this, and we
can’t miss them.”
104, MARTHA’S LODGER.
But in this I was mistaken, though after a keen search I noticed Scamp’s black ears sticking out of a tuft of grass, and pounced upon him, Poacher was nowhere to be found. Master Scamp having been deposited in his new home, we returned to the hunt again, but scoured the field without success. Things looked serious, and Nora appealed to me to recover her favourite.
“Do find him, Humphrey; he is such a dear. If you find him [ll forgive you for not keeping your promise this morning.”
“All right; Pll try,” I replied cheerfully ; “ but he may be a long way off by this time. I say,” a brilliant idea striking me, “suppose we get Bouncer to help us. He’ll nose him out in no time.”
“ How clever of you to think of him! Of course he will; but won’t he bite Poacher when he finds him ?”
“T don’t think so. Retrievers carry animals very gently, and Bouncer knows your rabbits. Besides, I'll tie my handkerchief to his collar.”
Bouncer was in the wildest spirits at being released from his chain, and it was some time before we could get him to understand what we wanted. Then he
set to work sniffing about and wagging his tail, and
MARTHA’S LODGER. 105
at last guided us to the tuft of grass where we had already discovered Scamp.
“Stupid,” said Nora, shaking her head; “we’ve found Scamp. Seek Poacher.”
With a short bark, as much as to say “Oh, I know what you want now,” Bouncer began his sniffing again, and soon struck another trail. Panting and straining at his collar, he led us to the fence and over it into the field where the corn was lying cut. Backwards and forwards he dragged me before setting off again right across the field to the heathland behind Colonel Leighton’s house, Here he appeared at fault for an instant, but darting suddenly forward, he thrust his head between two large stones, and reappeared with the truant struggling in his mouth.
“Drop him, Bouncer; don’t hurt him,” cried Nora, and the obedient dog obeyed at once.
The wily Poacher, finding himself once more at liberty, gave a jump and a kick, as though to see that no bones were broken, and was making off again when his mistress pounced upon him.
“You naughty creature,” she exclaimed, giving the rabbit a shake, to which he replied by biting her finger, “you'll never be allowed to have a run again,
and Scamp will get all the nicest lettuces.”
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Seeing that his services were no longer required, Bouncer returned to the place where he had discovered Poacher, and commenced scraping with his paws.
“What is he doing now?” asked Nora; “ perhaps he expects to find another rabbit.”
Calling off the dog, I peered between the two stones.
“Why, it is a great big hole,” I said in surprise, thrusting my arm in; “it seems to go down ever so far.”’
“ Oh, well, never mind,” returned Nora indifferently. “Tt’s a good thing we found Poacher before he got down into it. Hold him for me till I get over the fence.” ;
By the time we deposited the rabbit in his hutch and chained up the retriever it was one o’clock, and as we hurried into the house we met Frank at the door.
“ve found out something,” he whispered excitedly to me, jumping off his bicycle, “and will report to the society in the summer house.”
The summer house was a favourite resort of ours, and thither, after lunch was over, the members of the society wended their way. ;
(a3
. say,” began the president at once, too impatient
MARTHA’S LODGER. 107
to attempt any formal opening of the meeting—“I say I believe I’ve found the ghost. It’s—well, wait till I tell you, and then you can guess.”’
With this incoherent statement he proceeded to narrate how he had slipped through the gates of the avenue, left the bicycle concealed, and then worked his way stealthily up to the castle. Here, as he had anticipated, he found the little window over the corridor unlatched, and with some difficulty had scrambled up and squeezed his way through. Once inside, he had followed out his favourite theory of crawling about looking for clues, but had dis- covered nothing even in the haunted turret to which he had the hardihood to make his way. While engrossed in this proceeding he had got a great fright by hearing the little side door which Peter used suddenly opened.
“T scuttled into the picture gallery as quick as I could, and hid behind a curtain in one of the windows. Some one came through the billiard-room, along the corridor, and my word I was frightened when I heard the steps coming towards me!”
“QO Frank, how dreadful!” said Nora.
“Yes, it was much worse being alone,” confessed Sherlock. “But I heard the person turn down the
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little passage into the turret, and after a little I crept out to see what he was doing.”
“ Oh, how could you?” whispered Mycroft, shivering.
“Tt was the only way to discover a clue,” returned the president loftily, “and it was rather fun. I crept on hands and knees along the passage and peeped round the corner. A man was kneeling in the turret examining the stone floor, and I watched him with- out him knowing it. After a while he seemed to find some mark, for he stared at it for quite a long time, and then suddenly put his ear down and listened. You know how quiet it is in the castle,” went on Sherlock, “and there wasn’t a sound to be heard; but all at once there came a sort of clinking sound from under the turret, very faint and muffled, but quite distinct.”
Nora drew in her breath, and we both listened eagerly to what was to follow.
“The man on the floor seemed delighted at the sound, for he sat up and rubbed his hands together ; but I—I—something must have moved, for he turned round suddenly in my direction, and I had only just time to duck. I was afraid he might come along to see what the noise was, so I crawled into the
corridor and along to the billiard-room, and then
MARTHA’S LODGER. 10
bunked through the open door. When I got outside I sprinted for my bicyele, and came straight home and met you at the door. And so I’ve got a clue at last, and—”’
“ But who was it ?”’ asked Nora—*“ who was it?”
“Guess,” said Frank, jumping up in his excitement.
“Win Kee,” cried Nora at once.
“A tramp.”
“Wrong—both of you wrong. It was—it was
Martha’s new lodger!”