The Happy Adventurers by Lydia Miller Middleton (best thriller novels of all time TXT) 📖

and says he is going to die when he is eighty-three-and-a-half; I can’t think why she has begun to hear his death-watch tick already. And besides—don’t you believe in Fate? If it is your fate to fall from a balloon and be killed, you’ll be killed that way; there’s no use trying not to be.”

“You couldn’t be if you never went up in a balloon,” said Mollie.

“Then it wouldn’t be your fate,” Prudence answered.

Mollie could not think of a suitable reply at the moment and was silent.

“That’s not all,” Grizzel added. “Hugh has got my green diamond with him for luck. Bridget says that my diamond is the Luck of the Campbells, and will always bring good luck to the person that wears it, like a four-leaved shamrock. So I made Hugh take it.”

This remark reminded the others of the diamond-mine, and Dick, Jerry, and Mollie became eager for news of that adventure. It had turned out fairly well; they had not as yet made a fortune, but on the strength of their prospects Mr. Fraser had encouraged Papa to send Mamma and Baby for a trip home, and to add several comforts to the household, one of which was the broad veranda at the back of the house, in which Mollie had found herself that morning.

“We live in it by day, and some of us sleep in it by night,” Prue said. “You shall sleep in a hammock tonight, Mollie.”

After a feast of cocoa and cream-cakes at Bauermann’s they got home just in time for a dinner of twice-laid and Uncle Tom’s pudding, to which even Dick and Jerry could not do justice.

“It’s my favourite dinner, too,” sighed Prudence. “It’s a strange thing that one day you get too much and another day too little. Tomorrow there will be no Bauermann’s and most likely dinner will be boiled mutton and tapioca pudding.”

The afternoon passed rather slowly. Hugh might be back about five o’clock, and they were too anxious to hear how he had got on to be able to settle down to any occupation. They played croquet until all their tempers were hopelessly lost, even Prudence accusing Mollie of cheating. As if a Guide ever cheated under any circumstances whatsoever! After each girl in turn had thrown down her mallet and declared that she wouldn’t play, Dick swiftly defeated Jerry, the party recovered its tempers, and they were sitting down to play “I met a One-horned Lady always Genteel” when the garden-gate clicked and Hugh appeared.

Now Dick and Jerry, each in his own mind, had suspected that Hugh would come back from his trip full of “swank”, and each had decided that gently and politely, but very firmly, he would squash the swanker. But there was no sign of the conquering hero about Hugh. He came slowly up the garden path towards them, gloom and depression showing in every step that he took, and still more upon his face as he drew near.

They looked at him expectantly, but he stood silently beside them, his shoulders stooping as though a load of care sat upon them, his usually clear eyes heavy and clouded, and the corners of his mouth turned down as if he had made up his mind never to smile again.

“What’s up?” asked Jerry at last. “Did the balloon bust, and you the sole survivor?”

“Didn’t my diamond bring you luck after all?” Grizzel questioned anxiously.

“Sick, old bean?” inquired Dick sympathetically.

“I think you’d better have tea right away,” Prudence said, laying a motherly little hand on her brother’s arm.

“If he’s got something bad to tell he’d better tell it,” said Mollie. “Nothing cures care like giving it air.”

Hugh threw himself on the grass, hugged his legs with his arms, and, resting his chin on his knees, stared before him in stony silence.

“Spit it out, old bus,” Dick adjured him, “If you are in a scrape we are with you to a man—aren’t we?” he asked the others.

A chorus of agreement brought a flicker of light into the gloom of Hugh’s face.

“I have been the biggest ass in the world,” he said. “If there is a bigger it would comfort me to meet him.”

Two brown hands were promptly outstretched, but Hugh shook his head: “Wait till you hear.” He paused for a moment, looked nervously from side to side and then behind him:

“I’m a murderer. Probably I shall be hanged. Unless I poison myself first.”

“Hugh!” Prudence exclaimed sharply, “don’t make these horrible jokes. You know how Mamma hates them.”

“It isn’t a joke, worse luck,” Hugh groaned; “it’s beastly true. Thank goodness Mamma is out of the way. Perhaps it can be hushed up so that she will never know the truth about the way I died.”

A look of consternation settled upon every face; whatever Hugh had done, it was plain that he was exceedingly unhappy.

“Tell us,” Jerry commanded briefly.

Hugh sat up. “I may as well,” he agreed dejectedly. “You’d better hear it from me than from some old policeman. I suppose one will be stalking up the path soon.” He was silent again for a minute, and then started once more:

“It was this way. When we went up first it was perfectly glorious— you never can imagine how lovely Adelaide looks from the air, with the hills round and the sea in the distance and almond-blossom all over the place. Oh—if only this thing hadn’t happened I could tell you all sorts of things, but now I can’t think of anything. It was near the end. I was awfully keen on trying an experiment—two experiments in fact. I wanted to see how near I could hit a given spot if I aimed at it with a stone, and I wanted to see how much the stone would deflect in falling. Perhaps it’s only one experiment really, but it struck me as being two at the time. You see, if Australia ever goes to war we might want to shoot from balloons, or one might drop a ball of explosives with a fuse attached or something. I thought about it when that Russian scare was on, but I never thought I’d get the chance to try. So I got a good, smooth, round stone, nine-and-a-half ounces, and wrapped it up in a handkerchief and took it up. I knew a good place to aim at—the tree in Mr. Macgregor’s Burnt Oak field. I knew the field was empty; it is being ploughed up for some experiment that Mr. Macgregor wants to try—blow all experiments! And to-day he gave his men a holiday to come and see the balloon. We were about fifteen hundred feet up and going slowly. I could see the oak and its shadow quite plainly. So I let the stone drop.”

Hugh paused again and groaned.

“Go on,” said somebody.

“No one noticed what I had done, but something or other made Mr. Ferguson start talking about how dangerous it was to chuck things over carelessly, though it seems to me that in Jules Verne they spend half their time chucking sandbags about. I asked him how about a stone weighing half a pound, and he said it would fall half a mile in twelve and a half seconds, and if it hit anyone on the head that person would be as dead as if he had got a bullet through him. I felt a bit sick, but I was glad that field had been empty. We came down soon after that, and I cut off to Burnt Oak field to look for my stone.” Hugh stopped short.

“Go on,” said the others.

“It wasn’t there, nor anywhere round; and I knew it must have dropped on that field.”

“But,” said Jerry, “if it hit the earth at that speed it would bury itself ever so deep. You could not possibly see it.”

“I thought of that,” said Hugh, “so I looked for the hole, and I found it. About thirty feet from the tree, which was a good hit considering. I could soon learn to aim well—that is, if I’m not hanged or sent to prison for life. Oh—Well, I found the hole, and beside it I found—”

No one dared to ask a question. Hugh remained silent till it was almost more than they could bear.

“Blood!” he whispered at last.

“Jiminy! Is that all!” exclaimed Dick. “I thought you were going to say a dead body. If the body got up and walked away it couldn’t have been so very dead. How much blood? Were there any footmarks about?”

“That part of the field hadn’t been ploughed, and the ground was rather hard, covered with grass the cattle had been cropping. There were some stones in a little pile, but my stone wasn’t among them. I looked at those stones—by George, I looked at them! They were splashed with blood—Then I got sick, and then had to skedaddle because someone was calling me.”

“I am sure it will turn out all right; you had the lucky diamond,” Grizzel said consolingly.

“That makes it worse,” said Hugh, groaning again. “I tied the diamond up with the stone and forgot to take it out.”

“Oh, Hugh!” exclaimed Prudence, more perturbed by this disaster than by the hypothetical murder, “how could you be so careless?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Grizzel persisted, with cheerful calm, “that diamond brings luck. It has had one miracle, and I expect it will have another. It will come back. Very likely the dead man will bring it back himself.”

“It will come back all right,” said Hugh, “because the ring has Grizzel’s name inside it, and, seeing that mine is the same on the handkerchief, the police will have a jolly good clue to start on. If the person was not hit and steals the diamond he’ll take good care not to show himself. Then the diamond will be gone, but I’ll give Grizzel mine. I’ll spend my bank money on getting a ring made. Oh— if I only knew! If I only knew what was going to happen I shouldn’t mind so much. It’s waiting for that bobby to turn up that gives me the horrors.” He looked over his shoulder as he spoke, with a shiver of anticipation.

“It sounds to me a bit fishy, you know,” said Jerry, with a thoughtful frown. “How do you know that the hole you saw was made by your stone? It might have been there already.”

“Because it was fresh, and the earth round was freshly thrown up; and some of my handkerchief was lying beside it.”

The boys looked grave. This did sound rather serious.

“But,” said Mollie, “the stone could not have buried itself in a hole and hit a person so that the person was killed at the same time. If it went down into a hole it did not hit anyone.”

“I never thought of that,” said Hugh, cheering up for the first time. “Neither it could; but there was the blood,” he added despondently, “pints of it. I never thought anything could bleed so much. Well—I shall know before very long one way or the other, for either some news will turn up or the diamond will stay away.”

“The best thing you can do now is to have some tea,” said Prudence, “then you will feel better and we can plan what to do.”

Things certainly looked less black after tea. Hugh, beginning to hope for Grizzel’s miracle, decided to develop some photographs of the ballooners which he had taken on the previous day. “I promised Mr. Ferguson to have some prints ready for him tomorrow,” he said, “so I may as well begin. If the bobby comes you can call me.”

But everyone wanted to watch the developing process. Hugh’s dark-room was a roomy lean-to