THE Th.o.r.n.y PATH

"Dinner _as_ usual, sir?" said the landlord of The Happy Heart, looking into the parlor where Tony and Robert were playing piquet.

"Please, Mr. Glew," said Tony. "Seven o'clock as usual. Oh, by the way, have you got such a thing as a lantern?"

"A lantern!" interjected Robert in surprise. "Why, what----" He was checked by a kick under the table.

"I dare say I can find you one, sir," said the landlord. "We don't need 'em these summer nights, but I'll be bound there's one knocking about somewhere."

"Thanks. My friend and I are enthusiastic collectors of b.u.t.terflies and moths. We mean to try for some of the latter to-night; so, if we are not in till late, you won't be surprised or imagine burglars."

"Bless you, no, sir!" said Glew, and went out to look for the lantern.

As soon as the door closed Robert began to speak.

"Don't think me censorious, Mr. Wild, if you please; but, really now, was there any need for that?"

"The lantern? Rather! We may have to----"

"No--not the lantern. The--the perversion----"

"Oh! you mean the lie. Don't apologize, Bangs, old chap! you haven't offended me in the least. I like people to say what they think.--Well, the lie.... Yes, I think it was necessary. Conspirators can't stick at trifles. Besides, it's on _my_ conscience, so there's no need for you to worry."

"But wouldn't an excuse----"

"Have done equally well? Possibly, though I never save the ha'porth of tar. And an excuse would have been only a lie in another form--just as culpable. But don't let's worry over this: I want to tell you of the plan of campaign."

Robert subsided, content to have recorded a protest, however mild. He loved adventure; but, being a man trained in meticulous accuracy, he did not take kindly to deception--verbal deception, at any rate. The path of an adventurer he had found a trifle th.o.r.n.y, trodden by a man of conscience, but still he had enjoyed it and hoped to tread it still further. But he was careful to leave most of the talking to his comrade.

"While you, Bangs," pursued Tony, leaning against the mantelpiece, "have been living the lotus life and acting slugabed, I have been working hard. Ever since I got a hint that Brown was in touch with The Quiet House I have been following him like the proverbial sleuth hound. I have discovered--at the expense of torn trousers and soaking feet--that he keeps tryst nightly with that charming bit of womanhood I spoke to once--and only once, alas! He has a private entry over the wall, having driven some large nails into the outer side, well off the beaten track.

Up there the gay Lothario climbs--drops into the garden--meets his divinity, and _voila tout_!"

"What happens?" asked Robert eagerly.

"The usual thing, Bangs. Exchange of kisses and confidences--which I, alas! can hear but imperfectly."

"But you don't listen!" exclaimed Robert, scandalized. Tony sighed.

"I have to steel myself. In high politics, you know ... but, of course, I shall never tell."

"Oh!"

The disappointment was obvious, and Tony laughed.

"No, old fellow, love's young dream and so forth must be respected.

Honestly, I've only watched, hoping to get a clew--perhaps some conversation with the girl when Brown goes home. No good! No earthly good! Brown sees her safe to the house and then comes back. He stands on a convenient garden roller and climbs. Then he drops, and off home.

Ditto me, disgusted, envious, lacking information. To-night I mean to move."

"Yes!"

"We'll lie in wait, Bangs, and have a word with them. A coil of rope and a sack--those shall be our only tools. While Brown is talking we'll try to slip the sack over his head and tie him up. I don't think the lady will scream, for it seems to me that there's a kind of counterplot afoot--either against Billy, the Turkish government, or Miss Arkwright.

(I still feel sure she is not Miss Arkwright, but a maid of sorts.) Now, if I'm right in my conjectures she won't be keen on advertising Brown's presence to her mistress. If I'm wrong and she _does_ scream and help comes, we must bolt to the wall and clear out at once. If we succeed, we'll have a talk with her and try to find out something. I'm tired of waiting in the dark. Now, are you game to help?"

Robert wagged his head nervously.

"Of course, Mr. Wild, I'm as ready for adventure as I ever was. But--but this is a serious business. It--it might mean prison!"

"It might," agreed Tony; "but I don't think it need if we're smart.

Anyhow, we must be prepared to risk a little for a great adventure. If we're cute about the sack business I think I can manage the roping part all right. You would have to hold the lady."

"B-but----"

"She's awfully pretty ..."

"That is no inducement, Mr. Wild. You forget----"

"Come, Bangs, none of your 'perversions!' I don't forget anything. How many chaps half your age would jump at the chance of capturing a beautiful anarchist!"

"I am not an old man yet, Mr. Wild," said Robert with some heat. "You misunderstand me. I love romance and can take an interest--a detached interest, of course--an appreciative and artistic interest in a pretty woman. What I am thinking of is the law. But, since you put it like that, I will come and risk it."

"Good," said Tony, concealing a smile. "Don't let your interest be too detached, old boy, or she may get away into the house. Grip her firmly by the wrists."

They spent the rest of the summer evening in maturing their plans and piquet. Having given his word Mr. Hedderwick scorned to withdraw, though it was plain that he did not relish the prospect of a night attack.

Tony, in addition to the lantern, procured some rope and a sack from the landlord. "To put the moths in, Mr. Glew," he said brightly by way of explanation.

"_To put the morths in!_" repeated Glew in a dazed fashion. "To put the MORTHS in! TO PUT THE----"

He was still repeating the formula when the adventurous pair set out.

It was a quarter past ten, thirty minutes before the odd-job man was wont to meet the lady of his heart. They reached The Quiet House in some ten minutes, and then skirted the wall for a short distance, till Tony stopped with a whispered "Here we are!" It was in a bridle-path that they found themselves, about eighty yards from the main road that ran through Shereling. Tony crouched down behind a convenient clump of bramble and lighted the lamp.

"I'll light you up the wall," he said softly. "When you get to the top, hang by your hands and drop quietly down. There's soft gra.s.s ten feet beneath you. As soon as you're up I shall put out the light, for I know the way by heart now."

With a resentful obedience Robert observed the big nails that had been driven into the brickwork by the amorous Brown. Heartily wishing himself at home--or at least in the snug security of The Happy Heart--but loath to plead his years or cowardice, Mr. Hedderwick put his foot on the lowest spike, grasped one above his head, and began the ascent. To an active boy it would have been a trivial feat; to an elderly adventurer it was full of pain, and in spite of an heroic spirit he was more than once on the point of climbing down again. Something, however, forbade the refusal of the adventure: curiosity or shame held him to his word.

The glimmer of Tony's lantern following--nay, leading him ever upward, shone like a beacon of promise in the dark. The thought spurred him, and it was not until he had one leg across the top of the wall that he reflected on a change of simile: the light might rather be a will-o'-the-wisp luring him to destruction or disgrace. For a moment his courage failed.

"Mr. Wild!" he whispered despairingly, "I'm----"

The light went out.

"All right?" said the cheering voice of his fellow criminal. "Good. I'm coming."

He began to follow, rope, sack and lantern coiled over his shoulders.

With a groan of resolution Robert wiped the sweat of fear from his forehead and dropped lightly to the ground.

Tony joined him a moment later, breathing a little quickly from the climb. Without a word he walked cautiously forward, Robert close behind, until they reached a thicket of elder-bushes. Into the heart of this they crept, making as little noise as possible. Presently, when Tony judged they were so placed as to be secure from observation, themselves able to observe, they halted. "May as well sit down," whispered Tony; "quite likely we shall have to wait a bit." He spread the sack upon the ground and the two of them established themselves upon it, clasping their knees.

The night, most luckily, was fine. There was no hint of rain, and little dew was falling. There was no moon, and the fitful starlight only served to display the immensity of the darkness, the monstrous tree-shapes looming threateningly on them, the overwhelming horror of The Quiet House. Black against the dark background of the sky it reared its bulk above them, seeming to menace the guilty pair with nightmare terrors, starting ghoulish fancies, prosaic fears of the police, a child's dread of the dark and all its goblins. It was so silent, powerful, unknown.

Mr. Hedderwick's flesh crept with a chill that was not climatic, and instinctively he huddled closer to his companion.