There was a long silence, while Stogumber wrestled with himself in thought. Suddenly he said: “Capting Staple, to cut no wheedle, there’s two men as I’m after, not one!”
“That is why I didn’t, at the outset, tell you that I’d bubbled your lay,” responded John coolly. “In the position I’m in, the suspicion that you were also after Henry Stornaway made it damned awkward for me! Since then, however, I’ve been able to satisfy myself that you’re wrong in thinking he has been anything more than a foolish catspaw in the business.”
“I daresay you have, but you ain’t satisfied me!” said Stogumber. “I’ll tell you to your head, sir, it weren’t Coate as led me to this place, but Stornaway!”
There was nothing in John’s face to betray how very unwelcome this piece of information was to him. Bent on discovering the extent of Stogumber’s knowledge, he shrugged, and said: “Because the silly goosecap made friends with a rogue?”
“No, sir, because he made friends with a certain party as works in the Treasury, which I ain’t going to name, because he’s an honest cove, even if he is a gabster, and got to mentioning things he shouldn’t ought to have breathed to no one! It was Stornaway which knew when that consignment was to be sent off to Manchester; and the reason young—the other party—talked of it was that it weren’t an ordinary consignment, not by any manner of means it weren’t! That currency, Capting, ain’t been seen yet, because it’s the new gold money, which makes it interesting. Ah, and dangerous!”
“So that’s it, is it?” said John, admirably simulating surprise. “And because one gabster whispers the interesting news to another, who in his turn passes it on to I daresay every friend he happens to meet, you think he planned the robbery! Perhaps even took part in all the violent deeds performed at Wansbeck ford!”
“I don’t know as I go so far as to say he took part in it, but that he was the cove as planned it I got good reason to think!” said Stogumber, a little stung by the mockery in John’s voice.
Almost sighing his relief, John retorted: “Then I fancy you’re not acquainted with Henry Stornaway!” He burst out laughing. “Good God, man, he is the most blubber-headed flat I ever encountered in all my days! Foolish beyond permission—a bleater, created to be nailed by every leg in town! The clumsiest gull-catcher could do him, brown as a berry, only by flattering him a little before pitching him his gammon! Have you seen him? He’s a Bartholomew baby, and thinks himself a buck of the first head. He wears a driving-coat with fifteen capes, and a very down-the-road man you would take him to be, until you saw him handling the ribbons! It is such pigeons as he who keep the Coates of this world up in the stirrups!”
Suspicion, incredulity, doubt, uneasiness seemed to possess the Runner’s mind in turn. He said: “Ay, but Stornaway ain’t well-breeched—not by any means he ain’t!”
“Not so well-breeched as he was before he became acquainted with Coate!” replied John, drawing a bow at a venture.
“That might be so,” agreed Stogumber cautiously. “But what made him bring Coate here, if he didn’t know nothing about the robbery?”
“Coate did,” instantly responded the Captain. “The devil of a fellow is Coate, you know! A clipping rider—and always horses of the right stamp! Never been bullfinched in his life! Hob-nobs with all the Melton men; rattles you off a dozen great names in a sentence; knows every on-dit of Society; and will introduce you to what he would have you believe to be the most exclusive gaming-clubs in town! Lord, he had only to hint that he would be glad to rusticate for a space, had always, perhaps, had a fancy to visit Derbyshire, and Stornaway would be so much flattered he would jump at the chance of entertaining such a Blood!”
“I’m not saying that mightn’t be so,” said Stogumber slowly, “but when he found Coate wasn’t made welcome at the Manor, and was making up to Miss Stornaway till she was fair persecuted by him—which anyone can learn only by putting his listeners forward in this here village—why would he drive his old grandpa into his coffin sooner than tell Coate to show his shapes? What makes him so set on keeping him up at Kellands?”
“I have my own notion about that,” returned the Captain with ready mendacity. “It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Stornaway’s deep in debt to him. In fact, I’d be willing to lay you odds on it. Now, you thought I had taken Brean’s place to knock up a lark, but you were mistaken. I reached the gate after dark last Saturday, and when I found that urchin you’ve seen in charge of it, and scared out of his wits, and heard that his father had gone out for an hour the night before and hadn’t been seen since, I thought there was something damned smoky going on. Well, Stogumber, I have an odd liking for the unusual, and it seemed to me I might find it interesting to discover just what was afoot. It wasn’t long before I had learnt that both Sir Peter and Miss Stornaway were persuaded that Coate was playing an undergame. They were excessively uneasy, and each of them attempted to convince Henry that his friend was by no means the bang-up Corinthian he thinks him, but a regular Captain Sharp. He didn’t believe them. In his besotted eyes, they were a pair of country bumpkins, unable to recognize a choice spirit when they saw one. What, in the name of all that was wonderful, he asked them, could a Captain Sharp find to gain in this sleepy place? They had no more notion than he had: they still have none—but either something has happened to shake Henry’s confidence in Coate, or his grandfather’s words set up a seed of doubt in his mind. Perhaps Coate’s man disclosed your presence in the district. I don’t know that, but I do know that Henry too has become uneasy. Since he is by far too cow-hearted to tell a bully like Coate to pack his trunks, he has taken to his bed on one of the flimsiest excuses I ever heard. In any ordinary case that would certainly be a way of getting rid of an unwanted guest, but this is not an ordinary case, and it has failed. It is time Henry learned just what the case is. If he does not die of heart failure, he will be mighty anxious to prove to the world that although he may have been a dupe he was never a robber or a murderer.”
“Or mighty anxious to warn Coate they’ve been rumbled!” interjected Stogumber, his eyes never wavering from the Captain’s face.
“Coate don’t need warning: he knows who you are. If Stornaway were in his confidence, he’d know that too. If you are right in your suspicions, neither of them will stir an inch. But if you are wrong, Stornaway will do what he can to save himself from being arrested as an accomplice,. and so bringing his name into dishonour.”
“I’ll allow he might—if I am wrong,” acknowledged Stogumber. “P’raps you’ll tell me, sir, how he could set about convincing me—me not being easy to convince?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you,” John answered. “The hiding-place of your sovereigns would occur only to those who know this country well, remember! Jerry knows it, and it plainly occurred to him very speedily. Well, Stornaway knows it too! He may think I am telling him a Banbury story, but if he is innocent he won’t hesitate to go with me to this hiding place, to discover what truth there may be in my tale.” Mr. Stogumber thought this over. After a lengthy pause, he demanded: “And how would that bring Coate next or nigh the hiding-place?”
“Stogumber, when you set a trap, do you tell people where it lies, and what you have baited it with?”
“No,” said Stogumber, staring at him. “I can’t say as I do.”
“Nor do I!” said the Captain, with the flash of a disarming grin.
Chapter 16
TOWARDS midday, Mr. Babbacombe strolled down the road to the toll-house. Saturday was a busy day on the road, and he found the Captain very much occupied, and did not for some time venture to approach nearer to the tollhouse than the gate opening into Huggate’s big meadow, against which he leaned negligently while his friend opened the pike to several vehicles, exchanged bucolic witticisms with a cattle drover, forced the driver of a large waggon to dismount from the back of the fore-horse, and drew the attention of an indignant gentleman to the over-laden condition of his cart. During a lull in these proceedings, Mr. Babbacombe, deeply appreciative, seized the opportunity to enter the toll-house. He had marshalled some powerful arguments, which he faintly hoped might dissuade the Captain from whatever fell scheme he had in mind, but as his masterly delivery of these was continually interrupted by calls of Gate! much of their force was lost, and he could not feel that the Captain, though amiable, was lending more than half an ear to them. Discouraged, he presently withdrew to the kitchen, where several covered pots, left by Mrs. Skeffling round the clear fire, simmered gently, and a large pie, flanked by a fresh-baked loaf of bread and a cheese, stood on the table.