Scarhaven Keep J. S. Fletcher (early reader chapter books TXT) 📖

term an enemy⁠—Mr. Vickers knows that.”

Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which was that the paper was duly signed, witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield’s pocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction.

“All right,” he said. “Now then, ma’am, and gentlemen, the next thing is to get away out o’ this, and get on the track of them as put us here. We’d better start a big fire out o’ this dry stuff⁠—”

“But what about these revelations you were going to make?” said Vickers. “I understood you were to tell us⁠—”

“Sir,” replied Chatfield, “I’ll tell and I’ll reveal in due course, and in good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearest telegraph office, and we’ll have some events, right smart. Let me attract attention. I’ve sailed in these seas before. There’s steamers goes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent⁠—we must get hold of one. A telegraph office!⁠—that’s what I want. I’m a-going to set up a blaze⁠—and I’ll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on a bundle o’ telegraph forms!”

He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf of rock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. The three young people exchanged glances.

“What’s this new mystery?” asked Audrey.

“All bluff!⁠—some deep game of his own,” growled Copplestone. “He’s the most consummate old liar I ever⁠—”

“You’re wrong this time, old chap!” interrupted Vickers. “He’s a bad ’un⁠—but he’s on our side now⁠—I’m convinced. It is a game he’s playing, and a deep one, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s for our benefit⁠—Chatfield’s simply transferred his interest and influence to us⁠—that’s all. For his own purposes, of course. And”⁠—he suddenly paused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. “Chatfield!” he called quietly. “You needn’t light any fire. Here’s a steamer!”

XXIII The Yacht Comes Back

Chatfield, his arms filled with masses of dried bracken and coarse grass, turned sharply on hearing Vickers’s call and stared hard and long in the direction which the young solicitor pointed out. His small, crafty eyes became dilated to their full extent⁠—suddenly they contracted again with a look of cunning satisfaction, and throwing away his burdens he drew out a big many-coloured handkerchief and mopped his high forehead as if the perspiration which burst out were the result of intense mental relief.

“Didn’t I know we should be rescued from this here imprisonment!” he cried with unctuous joy. “Thought they’d pinned me here for best part of a week, no doubt, while they could get theirselves quietly away⁠—far away! But it’s my experience ’ut them as has served the Lord’s never deserted, Mr. Vickers, and if you live as long as⁠—”

“Don’t be blasphemous, Chatfield!” said Vickers, curtly. “None of that! What we’d better think about is the chance of that steamer sighting us. We’ll light that fire, anyway!”

“She’s coming straight on for the island,” remarked Copplestone, who had been narrowly watching the approaching vessel. “So straight that you’d think she was actually making for it.”

“She’ll be some craft bound for Kirkwall,” said Vickers, pointing northward to the main group of islands. “And in that case she’ll probably take this channel on our west; that fire, now! Come on all of you, and let’s make as big a smoke as we can get out of this stuff.”

The weather being calm and the grass and bracken which they heaped together as dry as tinder, there was little difficulty about raising a thick column of smoke which presently rose high in the sky. But Audrey, turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she lowered her voice.

“I say!” she murmured. “I don’t think we need have bothered ourselves to light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!”

Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on, and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke, pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her appearance. Copplestone’s first notion was that she was a naval patrol boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident that she was in a great hurry to make her objective.

“I think you’re right,” he said, turning to Audrey. “But it’s strange that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this. What⁠—but you’ve got some notion in your mind?” he broke off suddenly, seeing her glance at him again. “What is it?”

Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield.

“I was wondering if that’s the Pike?⁠—come back!” she whispered. “And if it is⁠—why?”

Copplestone started, and took a longer and keener look at the vessel. Before he could speak again, Vickers called out cheerily across the rocks.

“Come on, you two!” he cried. “She’s seen us⁠—she’s coming in. They’ll have to send off a boat. Let’s get down to the beach, so that they’ll know where there’s a safe landing.”

He sprang over the edge of the cliff and hurried down the rough path; Chatfield, picking up his coat and shawl, prepared to follow him; Audrey and Copplestone lingered until he, too, had begun to lumber downward.

“If that is the Pike,” said Audrey, “there is something⁠—wrong. Whoever it is that is on the Pike wouldn’t come back to take us!”

“You think there is somebody on the Pike⁠—somebody other than Andrius?” suggested Copplestone.

“I believe the man who calls himself Marston Greyle was on the Pike,” announced Audrey.