What Timmy Did Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  After her visitors had gone, Mrs. Crofton had come back slowly,languidly, to her easy-chair.

  It was too warm for a fire, yet somehow the fire comforted her, for shefelt cold as well as tired, and, yes, she could admit it to herself,horribly disappointed. How stupid men were--even clever men!

  It was so stupid of Godfrey Radmore not to have come to see her, this thefirst time, alone. He might have found it difficult to have come withoutone of the Tosswill girls, but there was no reason and no excuse for hisbeing accompanied by that odious little Timmy. It was also really unkindof the boy to have brought his horrid dog with him. Even now she seemedto hear Flick's long-drawn-out howls--those horrible howls that at thetime she had not believed to be real. What a nervous, hysterical foolshe was becoming! How long would she go on being haunted by the nowfast-disappearing past?

  There came back to Enid Crofton the very last words uttered by Piper, theclever, capable man who, after having been Colonel Crofton's batman inthe War, had become their general factotum in Essex:--"Don't you go andbe startled, ma'am, if you see the very spit of Dandy in this 'erevillage! As me and your new lad was cleaning out the stable-yard thismorning, a young gentleman came in with a dog as was 'is exact image.After a bit o'course, I remembered as what we'd sent one of Juno's andDandy's pups to a place called Beechfield this time last year--'tis thatpup grown into a dog without a doubt!"

  It was certainly a bit of rank bad luck that there should be here, inBeechfield, a dog which, whenever she saw it, brought the image of herdead husband so vividly before her.

  She had just settled herself down, and was turning over the leaves of oneof the many picture papers which Tremaine had bought for her on theirjolly little journey on the day of her arrival at The Trellis House, whenthere came a ring at the door.

  Who could it be coming so late--close to seven o'clock? Enid Crofton gotup, feeling vaguely disturbed.

  The new maid brought in a reply-paid telegram, and Mrs. Crofton toreopen the orange envelope with just a faint premonition that somethingdisagreeable was going to happen:--"May I come and stay with you for theweek-end? Have just arrived in England. Alice Crofton."

  Thank Heaven she had been wrong as to her premonition! This portendednothing disagreeable--only something unexpected. The sender of thistelegram was the kind, opulent sister-in-law whom she always thought ofas "Miss Crofton."

  Going over to her toy writing-table, she quickly wrote on the reply-paidform:--"Miss Crofton, Buck's Hotel, Dover Street. Yes, delighted. Do cometo-morrow morning. Excellent eleven o'clock train from Waterloo.--Enid."

  As she settled herself by the fire she told herself that a visit fromMiss Crofton might be quite a good thing--so far as Beechfield wasconcerned. Her associations with her husband's sister were whollypleasant. For one thing, Alice Crofton was well off, and Enidinstinctively respected, and felt interested in, any possessor of money.What a pity it was that Colonel Crofton had not had a fairy godmother!His only sister had been left L3,000 a year by a godmother, and she livedthe agreeable life so many Englishwomen of her type and class live on theContinent. While her real home was in Florence, she often travelled, andduring the War she had settled down in Paris, giving many hours of eachday to one of the British hospitals there.

  The young widow's mind flew back to her one meeting with Alice Crofton.It was during her brief engagement to Colonel Crofton, and the latter'ssister, without being over cordial, had been quite pleasant to thestartlingly pretty little woman, who had made such a fool of her brother.

  But at the time of Colonel Crofton's death, his sister had been trulykind. She had telegraphed L200 to her sister-in-law from Italy, and thissum of ready money had been very useful during that tragic week--and evenafterwards, for the insurance people had made a certain amount of fussafter Colonel Crofton's sad suicide, "while of unsound mind," and thishad caused a disagreeable delay.

  The new tenant of The Trellis House had her lonely dinner brought in toher on a tray, and then, perhaps rather too soon--for she was not much ofa reader, and there was nothing to while away the time--she went upstairsto her pleasant, cosy bedroom, and so to bed.

  But, try as she might, she found it impossible to fall asleep; for whatseemed to her hours she lay wide awake, tossing this way and that. Atlast she got up, and, drawing aside the chintz curtain across one of thewindows, she looked out. The window was open, and in the eerily brightmoonlight the upper part of the hill on which Beechfield village layseemed spread before her. There were twinkling lights in many of thewindows--doubtless groups of happy, cheerful people behind them. Shefelt horribly lonely and depressed as well as wide awake to-night.

  In her short, healthy life, Enid Crofton had only had one attack ofinsomnia. During the ten days that had followed her husband's suddendeath--for the inquest had had to be put off for a day or two--shehad hardly slept at all, and the doctor who had been so kind a friendduring that awful time, had had to give her a strong narcotic. To hisastonishment it had had no effect. She had felt as if she were goingmad--the effect, so he had told her afterwards, of the awful shock shehad had.

  To-night she wondered with a kind of terror whether that terriblesleeplessness which had ended by making her feel almost lightheaded wascoming back.

  She turned away from the window, and, getting into bed again, tried tocompose her limbs into absolute repose, as the doctor had advised her todo. And then, just as she was mercifully going to sleep, there floatedin, through the open window, a variant on a doggerel song she had lastheard in Egypt:--

  "The angels sing-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling, They've got the goods for me. The bells of hell ring ting-a-ling-a-ling For you, as you shall see."

  Enid Crofton sat up in bed. She felt suddenly afraid--horribly,desperately afraid. As is often the case with those who have drifted awayfrom any form of religion, she was very superstitious, and terrified ofevil omens. During the War she had been fond of going first to one andthen to another of the fashionable sooth-sayers.

  They had all agreed as to one thing--this was that her husband would die,and of course she had thought he would be killed at the Front. But he hadcome through safe and sound, and more--more _hateful_ than ever.

  One fortune-teller, a woman, small, faded, commonplace-looking, yet withsomething sinister about her that impressed her patrons uncomfortably,had told Enid Crofton, with a curious smile, that she would have yetanother husband, making the third. This had startled her very much, forthe woman, who did not even know her name, could only have guessed thatshe had been married twice. Enid Crofton was not given to makingunnecessary confidences. With the exception of her sister-in-law, none ofthe people who now knew her were aware that Colonel Crofton had been hersecond husband.

  She lay down again, and in the now dying firelight, fixed her eyes on thechintz square of the window curtain nearest to her. She shut her eyes,but, as always happens, there remained a square luminous patch on theirretinas. And then, all at once, it was as if she saw, depicted on thewhite, faintly illuminated space, a scene which might have figured in oneof those cinema-plays to which she and her house-mate, during those happydays when she had lived in London, used so often to go with one or otherof their temporary admirers.

  On the white, luminous background two pretty little hands were movingabout, a little uncertainly, over a window-ledge on which stood a row ofmedicine bottles. Then, suddenly the two pretty hands became engaged indoing something which is done by woman's hands every day--the pouring ofa liquid from one bottle into another.

  Enid Crofton did not visualise the owner of the hands. She had no wish todo so, but she did see the hands.

  Then there started out before her, with astonishing vividness, anotherlittle scene--this time with a man as central figure. He was whistling;that she knew, though she could not hear the whistling. It was owing tothat surprised, long-drawn-out whistling sound that the owner of thepretty hands had become suddenly, affrightedly, aware that someone wasthere, outside the window, sta
ring down, and so of course seeing the taskon which the two pretty little hands were engaged.

  Now, the owner of that pair of now shaking little hands had felt quitesure that no one could possibly see what they were engaged in doing--forthe window on the ledge of which the medicine bottles were standinglooked out on what was practically a blank wall. But the man whose long,surprised whistle had so suddenly scared her, happened at that moment tobe sitting astride the top of the blank wall, engaged in the legitimateoccupation of sticking bits of broken bottles into putty. The man wasPiper, and doubtless the trifling incident had long since slipped hismind, for that same afternoon his master, Colonel Crofton, had committedsuicide in a fit of depression owing to shell shock.

  Enid Crofton opened her eyes wide, and the sort of vision, ornightmare--call it what you will--faded at once.

  It was a nightmare she had constantly experienced during the first fewnights which had succeeded her husband's death. But since the inquest shehad no longer been haunted by that scene--the double scene of the hands,the pretty little hands, engaged in that simple, almost mechanical,action of pouring the contents of one bottle into another, and the visionof the man on the wall looking down, slantwise, through the window, anduttering that queer, long-drawn-out whistle of utter surprise.

  When at last Mrs. Crofton had had to explain regretfully to clever,capable Piper that she could no longer afford to keep him on, they hadparted the best of friends. She had made him the handsome present oftwenty-five pounds, for he had been a most excellent servant to her latehusband. And she had done more than that. She had gone to a good deal oftrouble to procure him an exceptionally good situation. Piper had justgone there, and she hoped, rather anxiously, that he would do well in it.

  The man had one serious fault--now and again he would go off and have agood "drunk." Sometimes he wouldn't do this foolish, stupid thing formonths, and then, perchance, he would do it two weeks running! ColonelCrofton, so hard in many ways, had been indulgent to this one fault, orvice, in an otherwise almost perfect servant. When giving Piper a veryhigh character Mrs. Crofton had just hinted that there had been a timewhen he had taken a drop too much, but she had spoken of it as beingabsolutely in the past. Being the kind of woman she was, she wouldn'thave said even that, had it not been that Piper had got disgracefullydrunk within a week of his master's death. She had been very muchfrightened then, though not too frightened to stay, herself, withinhail of the man till he had come round, and to make him a cup of strongcoffee. When, at last, he was fit to do so, he had uttered broken wordsof gratitude, really touched at her kindness, and frightfully ashamed ofhimself.

  Lying there, wide awake, in the darkness and utter stillness ofBeechfield village, Enid Crofton reminded herself that she had treatedPiper very well. In memory of the master whom he had served she had alsogiven him, before selling off her husband's kennel, two prize-winners.But it is sometimes a mistake to be too kind, for on receiving this lastgenerous gift the man had hinted that with a little capital he could setup dog-breeding for himself! She had had to tell him, sadly but firmly,that she could not help him to any ready money, and Piper had been whatshe now vaguely described to herself as "very nice" about it, thoughobviously disappointed.

  At the end of their little chat, however, he had said something which hadmade her feel rather uncomfortable:--"I was wondering, ma'am, whetherMajor Radmore might perhaps be inclined for a little speculation? Iwouldn't mind paying, say, up to ten per cent, if 'e'd oblige me witha loan of five hundred pounds."

  She had been astonished at the suggestion--astonished and unpleasantlytaken aback. He had surprised her further by going on:--"I believe aswhat the Major is coming 'ome soon, ma'am. Perhaps then I might ventureto ask you to say a word for me? Major Radmore was known in the regimentas a very kind gentleman."

  "I'll do what I can, Piper." She had said the words with apparentearnestness, but, deep in her heart, she had thought the request totallyunreasonable.

  And now it was this conversation which came back to her as she movedrestlessly about in her bed. She wondered uneasily whether she had madea mistake. Her capital was very small, and she was now living on hercapital, but after all, perhaps it would have been wiser to have givenPiper that L500. She was quite determined not to mix up Piper withGodfrey Radmore, but she had a queer, uncomfortable feeling that she hadnot done with this man yet.

  At last she fell into a heavy, troubled, worried sleep--the kind of sleepfrom which a woman always wakes unrefreshed.

  But daylight brought comfort to Enid Crofton, and after she had had herearly cup of tea and had enjoyed her nice hot bath, she felt quite cheeryagain, and her strange, bad night faded into nothingness. She was young,she was strong, above all she was enchantingly pretty! She told herselfconfidently that nothing terrible, nothing _really_ dreadful ever happensto a woman who is as attractive as she knew herself to be to the sexwhich still holds all the material power there is to hold in this strangeworld.

  During the last three weeks, she had sometimes wondered uneasily whetherGodfrey Radmore realised how very pretty she was. There was something socuriously impersonal about him--and yet last night he had very nearlykissed her!

  She laughed aloud, gaily, triumphantly, as she went down to her latebreakfast.