Till the Clock Stops. J. J. Bell
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The car rolled out of the station down the declivity into the Square, thence into Glasgow's longest street, then swarming with pedestrians and traffic.
"Damn it!" exclaimed Bullard, "the air's frosty. We'll meet with fog presently."
He was right. They met it before they were clear of the city, and over the twenty miles that followed it lay thick, blanketing the river and countryside. Bullard was a seasoned but not a reckless driver; besides he was no more than acquainted with the road. He drove cautiously, his impatience escaping now and then in curses. They were nearing Helensburgh when they came almost abruptly into clear weather. The sky was cloudless, starry.
"This is better," said Bullard, "but I'm afraid it'll be a case of routing the estimable Caw from his virtuous couch."
Lancaster struggled out of his stupor of weariness. "Are we nearly there?"
"Hardly, but we can let her go now. I say, don't sleep; or you'll be too stiff for anything. Think over what I told you in the train; don't talk."
Five minutes later they were speeding up the Gareloch; still later, down the west side; then through the village of Roseneath, over the hill into Kilcreggan; then round the point and up Loch Long side. …
At the last, as it seemed, of the houses Bullard slowed down.
"Aren't we going too far?" Lancaster inquired in a voice unnecessarily low.
"You are no observer," the other returned pleasantly, "or you would have remembered that there are here first a small wood and then a biggish field, aFter which we come to a couple of solitary houses, the further and larger being Christopher's. The other belongs to a doctor—retired, though I believe he has attended our old friend. As it may not be advisable to advertise our call more than we can help, we are going to run the car into the wood—there's a sort of track—and make our approach on foot. We can do with the exercise."
Within five minutes they started briskly along the deserted road.
"No need to walk on tiptoe," said Bullard with a laugh. "Hardly any one living here at this time of year. Don't let your nerves get the upper hand. We're not going to do anything sensational, you know. Cold, isn't it? We shall begin by requesting the amiable Caw to serve drinks."
"Don't jest, Bullard. I'm honestly hoping that the Green Box was somehow put away into safety."
"If not, we must rectify the error."
Lancaster sighed. "If the box is there, do you mean to—to—"
"'Pinch' is possibly the word you are hunting for. Expressive if not pretty. Well, it will all depend on circumstances."
"Bullard, I wish to say that I refuse to take more of the diamonds than will just pay my debts."
"A thousand thanks, old chap, but I really cannot accept such generosity." Bullard threw out his hand. "Yonder are the houses, and you will perceive that the doctor has not yet retired—to bed. Christopher's, however, looks less hospitable. Never mind! We can take turns at pushing the button."
"Bullard, for Heaven's sake, let us respect the—the dead."
"And let us refrain from hypocrisies. Come along, man!"
In silence they came to the gates, where Bullard spoke—
"Now remember, all you've got to do is to follow my lead, and not take fright at anything. Caw may not be alone in the house. It is even possible that he may have the company of some wretched lawyer fellow who has been nosing around all day. Come, buck up! You'll feel fitter after a drink. Allons!"
Taking Lancaster by the elbow, he led him up the gravel path, leaves rustling about their feet. They mounted the three broad steps to the closed outer door, and, with a muttered "Here's luck!" Bullard rung the electric bell.
"Good!" he exclaimed a few seconds later, as a flood of light poured from the fan-light.
They heard the inner door being opened; then with the minimum of noise, a large key was turned, and half of the outer door swung inwards. The late Mr. Craig's servant, in his customary black lounge suit, stood there regarding them quite calmly.
Bullard had expected at least a word of astonishment, so that there was a little pause until his own words arrived.
"Good evening, Caw," he said gravely. "We very much regret to disturb you at this hour, and at this tragic time, but our business is of the utmost importance. May we have a word with you?"
Still silent, the servant stood aside, and they entered.
Said Bullard—"I need not say that we were both greatly shocked by your wire this morning. I trust our old friend did not suffer much."
"Too much, sir," answered Caw quietly, turning from closing the door. His countenance had a bleak look; his eyes were heavy. He stepped past them and opened a door on the right, switching on the lights inside. "This way, if you please, gentlemen."
Lancaster showed a momentary hesitation, or confusion, but Bullard touched his arm and he accepted the invitation.
Caw followed them a couple of paces into the room and stood at attention.
The two visitors remained standing, their hats in their hands.
Bullard had foreseen a hundred difficulties, but strangely enough, he had never thought of not being admitted to the right room. Nevertheless, his chagrin was not apparent.
"A few words will explain our unseasonable call," he said pleasantly. "Our visit yesterday afternoon was partly of a business nature, and we brought for Mr. Craig's inspection a number of documents which, after perusal, he returned to us—as it seemed at the time. But in the train, late at night, we discovered we were one short. And that document is of such vital importance that we left London again this morning, and have regretfully disturbed you now. As a matter of fact, it was a pale green share certificate in our joint names—Mr. Lancaster's and mine—and as we have sold the shares and have to deliver them two days hence, you will probably understand the necessity of recovering it immediately. Possibly you have come across such a document in the room upstairs?"
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