Deep Moat Grange Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  WE MEET DAFT JEREMY

  The next morning, bright and early, Elsie and I were up and out.Indeed, I was throwing up stones at her window when she was alreadydressed and out in the little back garden feeding the hens. Of courseI know I should have tried to dissuade Elsie from going on such anerrand. But I knew that would only make her all the keener to go.And, indeed, once she had taken a thing in her head she would gothrough with it in spite of everything.

  Poor Harry Foster and his fate was always in the background of my mind.But not so much, as I could see, in Elsie's. Now I like my father wellenough, as fathers go. He is a grocer, not at all mysterious, butmakes lots of money. Now if, instead, he were the Red Rover of theSeas--well, bless me if I would give twopence to find out about him.

  But of course Elsie is different. She always was different from everyone else, and now she was keen as a terrier at a rat hole to find outall about the Stennises, and the queer crew that was battening on hergrandfather, old Hobby, the Golden Farmer of Deep Moat Hollow.

  Before I saw her, Elsie had made Nance's breakfast, shared it, and seenher off to her work. Nance was in great demand. She could act asforeman or grieve on occasion, and people who wanted their work quicklydone, like my father, used often to give Nance as much as a shilling aday extra for coming to them.

  I don't think either of us had much thought of finding out about poorlost Harry Foster. How could we, with all those city detectives, fromEast Dene and Thorsby, even (they whispered) from Scotland Yard itself,ranging everywhere like pointer dogs over the heather?

  Indeed we were almost like dogs on a scent ourselves, so keen were weto see with our eyes the mysterious Grange and all the queer folkthere. I hardly think we would have turned aside to look at HarryFoster himself, had he been lying in his last bloody sleep, as plain asin a waxwork. But we were not tried. Nothing of the kind happened.

  As we went across the moor, every low spiky arch of bramble and tuft ofgorse was shining and sparkling. The wren and the gowdspink werepreening themselves and shaking off the dews that fell on theirfeathers as they fussed to and fro about their nesting business. Thenwe dived into Sparhawk Wood, and came out again on the countrycross-road along which Bailiff Ball had seen Dappled Bess plungingmadly with her empty cart. The Brom Water flowed still as a canal onour left, down towards the Moat Pond. It was certainly heartsomer tobe out under the sky and the crying whaups, with the blue Cheviotslooking over the tree tops, than in Grange Longwood, where somebodymight be watching you from behind every bush and you none the wiser.

  But before we came to the Bridge End, where we had found the marks ofthe struggle that first morning, Elsie had an idea that if we struckacross the road and kept round the edge of the Brom Water, we wouldescape the bailiff's cottage and stand a good chance of seeing DeepMoat Grange without being discovered by anybody.

  When we got there it was only about six in the morning, and eerieenough in the gloomy bits, where you could not see a handsbreadth ofsky, and nasty things, which you told yourself were only rabbits, wouldkeep moving and rustling in the undergrowth.

  I would have been glad to go back even then, because after all, it wassilly. Just imagine--mad folks, and murderers, maybe, skulking incoverts! I am as brave as anybody when all is open and I have a chanceto run. I am too old to believe in ghosts, of course; but for all thatthere are queer things to be seen in old green droopy woods like thatof Deep Moat Hollow. The trees whisper and seem to know such a lot.After about an hour I get shivers down my back.

  But it was no use arguing with Elsie. She went on first, and I guardedthe rear--that being the most dangerous position. And I did it well,for I declare I got crick in the neck just with looking over myshoulder.

  So we crept and crept, foot by foot, looking and testing everything.And it was as well. Because, quite without warning, the thick bushesceased, and there we were on the edge of a deep trench with very blackwater at the bottom. The sides were steep and green with grass. Buton the other bank all was green and yellow, with spreading lawns andLent lilies growing, and a woman in a short skirt, coming and goingamong them, with a gardening spade in her hand.

  Somehow I knew at once that that was Daft Jeremy's elder sister, AphraOrrin, the one who was not so mad as the others, and kept house forElsie's grandfather.

  She came quite near. We could have tossed a dog biscuit to herfeet--could, that is--somehow, I didn't want to. It might havestartled the poor lady, and besides I hate making oneself conspicuous.

  Over the lily patches and the flower beds we got glimpses of ared-tiled house, low and old, all overgrown with ivy about the gablesand porches. It had small windows with criss-cross panes, and smokewas coming out of one of the chimneys, though it was yet so early.That I took to be the kitchen of Deep Moat Grange.

  The canal seemed to go all the way round, and to join on to the pondwhich we could see glimmering beyond the house, looking gray through afringe of willows.

  The place was nested in woods and water, like a dabchick's nest, yetfor all that comfortable and fair to see with its lawns and greeneryset about it. I looked at Elsie to see if she was feared. But notshe. Instead, there was a queer, eager look, and her eyes keptglittering, as if you could have struck a match at them. Then all atonce it struck me that Elsie was going to be pretty; but I resolved tosay nothing about that for the present.

  It was thinking about her mother that did it, I expect. And that is afunny thing, too. For I care about my mother, and sometimes lookeager, like Elsie; but it is when I tease her to tell me what we aregoing to have for dinner. Elsie was different. She said "S-h-h-h-!"whenever I moved; and once, when a stick cracked underfoot, turned andgave me a look, which would have speaned a foal.

  "You fidgety worm--_can't_ you be quiet," that look said.

  We went on watching the house and the woman watering the flower beds.Nance had told us that the old housekeeper always did that herself. Nohireling was allowed to put a spade in the soil of the Grange garden.Very soon we had proof that she was quite mad. The Lent lilies grewabout in great clumps, flourishing strong and high--a brave show. Thegaunt old woman waved the rose of her watering can over each with akind of ritual, like what I have since seen the priests use in Catholicchurches. Then she kneeled down and prayed--yes, prayed to the lilies.Actually I saw her--and so did Elsie.

  But that was not all. Out of the house there came a company of threeother women, one behind the other. They had their hair down theirbacks, and long cloaks with gold and silver patches covered them. Eachwas carrying something narrow and black in her arms. At first theywere too far away for us to see clearly, but as they came nearer, Igasped and caught at Elsie's hand. The long black things were little,tiny coffins, neatly modelled, and covered with black cloth allcomplete with fringe, name-plates, and cords. A little to the side,capering and dancing, flinging his legs high in the air, and blowing amerry marching tune on a soldier's clarionet, pranced Daft Jeremy.Every now and then he would stop blowing to give the brass instrument ashake. Then he would laugh and egg on the women with the coffins todance also. But they went along quite peaceably, keeping theircountenances wonderfully, and making quaint signs with their hands.They marched round and round, the idiot laughing and blowing while theelder woman with the gardening spud went on praying, paying noattention whatever to them, till they came to a rude altar, just twoupright posts and a stone laid across them, quite at the end of thegarden, opposite to where we were.

  Upon this they laid the coffins down, and the women-creatures kneeled.But the monster with the clarionet leaped up between the coffins nimblyas a jackanapes, crossed his legs, and began to play.

  Now I cannot tell whether it was because of the little elevation on thecrossbar of the altar which enabled him to spot us, or if I moved; butin another instant Mad Jeremy seemed to spring down, swift andunexpected, and before we could move, he had jerked out a big "gully"knife, and rushed to the canal bank, leaped into the midd
le, drivingthe black scum of the water every way, and almost before we could thinkhe was upon us.

  The madman made for me first with the big knife uplifted, and but formy ducking and running in, there would have been an end of me on thespot. We fell, and his weapon now being in his way, he let go, and Ifelt the grip of immense hands about my neck. That had almost been mylast memory on earth. For though Elsie had seized the knife and wasabout to kill the madman, it would have been too late so far as I wasconcerned.

  But out of the undergrowth, as if he had been watching, came a littlequick-tripping old man, bow-backed and wizened, who called, "Jeremy!Jeremy!" in a high, piping key.

  At the sound the madman lifted himself up from my neck, as if moved bya spring, and stood before the little man smiling and sucking histhumb--for all the world like a child caught stealing sugar.

  The little old man pointed to the moat. "Go back as you came!" he said.

  The "mounster" threw himself into the black water without a complaint.I saw him come out on the opposite side dripping, and with long threadsof green scum trailing about him. He never looked round once, but madefor the house.

  Then the little old man turned fiercely upon Elsie and me, with a kindof cold hateful sneer on his face.

  "And now, my pretties," he said, "what may you be seeking in Deep MoatHollow?"