The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne (libby ebook reader txt) đź“•
Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died duringhis third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted.From that moment his life loses its legendary character, andbecomes more a matter of history. He settled accounts with themoney-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvestingof others, and became in his turn a patron. He patronized theArts. It was not only usurers who discovered that Mark Ablett nolonger wrote for money; editors were now offered freecontributions as well as free lunches; publishers were givenagreements f
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“Y-yes,” said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. “Of course, the trouble with water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I don’t know if that had occurred to you.
“It had,” smiled Antony. “Let’s come and have a look at it.”
They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence, looking at the pond beneath them.
“See anything?” said Antony at last.
“What?”
“The fence on the other side.”
“What about it?”
“Well, it’s rather useful, that’s all.”
“Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically,” added Bill. “A moment later, his friend Watson had hurled him into the pond.”
Antony laughed.
“I love being Sherlocky,” he said. “It’s very unfair of you not to play up to me.
“Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?” said Bill obediently.
“Because you can take a bearing on it. You see—”
“Yes, you needn’t stop to explain to me what a bearing is.”
“I wasn’t going to. But you’re lying here,” he looked up “underneath this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his parcel in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it off on the fence there. Say it’s the fifth post from the end. Well, then I take a line from my tree we’ll find one for me directly and it comes on to the twentieth post, say. And where the two lines meet, there shall the eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I almost forgot to remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome.”
Bill looked at him uneasily.
“I say, really? It’s beastly dirty water, you know.”
“I’m afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of Jasher.”
“Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped, well, it’s a warm night.”
“Just the night for a bathe,” agreed Antony, getting up. “Well now, let’s have a look for my tree.”
They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill’s tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet nearer to heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the other end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally conspicuous.
“That’s where I shall be,” said Antony, pointing to it. “Now, for the Lord’s sake, count your posts accurately.”
“Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake,” said Bill with feeling. “I don’t want to spend the whole night diving.”
“Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then count backwards to the beginning of the fence.”
“Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head.”
“Well, that’s how you will have to do the last part of it,” said Antony with a smile.
He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They started to walk back to the house together.
“There’s one thing which worries me rather,” said Antony. “Where does Cayley sleep?”
“Next door to me. Why?”
“Well, it’s just possible that he might have another look at you after he’s come back from the pond. I don’t think he’d bother about it in the ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think he might glance in.”
“I shan’t be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking up mud.”
“Yes …. Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it, and one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for the head. You know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to feel that you were still sleeping peacefully.”
Bill chuckled to himself.
“Rather. I’m awfully good at that. I’ll make him up something really good. But what about you?”
“I’m at the other end of the house; he’s hardly likely to bother about me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first visit. Still, I may as well to be on the safe side.”
They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He nodded, and took out his watch.
“Time to change?” he said.
“Just about,” said Bill.
“You didn’t forget my letter?”
“I did not. In fact, we had tea there.”
“Ah!” He looked away and said carelessly, “How were they all?”
“They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and and all that sort of thing.”
“Oh, yes.”
Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing was coming, he turned round, said, “Come on, Tony,” and led the way upstairs.
“Got all you want?” he said at the top of the stairs.
“I think so. Come and see me before you go down.”
“Righto.”
Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window. He pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over the door at the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his left. He could step out on to the top of the door, and from there drop easily to the ground. Getting back would be little more difficult. There was a convenient water-pipe which would help.
He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. “Final instructions?” he asked, sitting down on the bed. “By the way, how are we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner.”
“Billiards?”
“Righto. Anything you like.”
“Don’t talk too loud,” said Antony in a lower voice. “We’re more or less over the hall, and Cayley may be there.” He led the way to the window. “We’ll go out this way to-night. Going downstairs is too risky. It’s easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes.”
“Right. I say, in case I don’t get another chance alone with you what do I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?”
“It’s difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he just knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don’t overdo the snoring. But if he makes a hell of a noise, you’ll have to wake up and rub your eyes, and wonder what on earth he’s doing in your room at all. You know the sort of thing.”
“Right. And about the dummy figure. I’ll make it up directly we come upstairs, and hide it under the bed.”
“Yes …. I think we’d better go completely to bed ourselves. We shan’t take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get safely into the passage. Then come into my room.”
“Right …. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
They went downstairs together.
Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could stand it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But in the end he had been firm.
“What about a little billiards?” he said, shaking himself free from the others.
“Will you play?” said Antony to Cayley.
“I’ll watch you,” he said, and he had watched them resolutely until the game, and then another game after that; had been played.
They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
“Well, thank heaven for bed,” said Bill; putting down his glass. “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
“I’ve just got one or two little things to do,” said Cayley. “I shan’t be long following you.”
“Well, good night, then.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” called Bill from half-way up the stairs. “Good night, Tony.”
“Good night.”
Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what to wear on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse for some time. And good idea a towel. He would want it later on, and meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.
Tennis-shoes …. There Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy figure.
He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen. How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the new darkness …. He could only just make out the bed in the corner of the room. Cayley would want more light than that if he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied. He pulled the curtains a little way back. That was about right. He could have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in the bed.
How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn’t that he wanted his friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were safely in their bedrooms. Cayley’s business would make no noise, give no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as the household was really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he came up to reassure himself. So it amounted to the same thing, really. He would wait until they were asleep …. until they were asleep …. asleep ….
With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering thoughts and came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal if he went to sleep …. if he went to sleep …. to sleep …. And then, in an instant, he was intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at all!
Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his business. Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony have taken such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley’s place, he had said. But how was it possible? They weren’t Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would never know what he had dropped into it.
Listen! …. Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now. Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep …. The door was opening. He could feel it opening behind him …. Good Lord, suppose Cayley really was a murderer! Why, even now he might be—no, he mustn’t think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round. He mustn’t turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why didn’t the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his hand no, he mustn’t think of that. He was asleep. But why didn’t the door shut?
The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed, a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very natural sound a deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one to it to
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