Powers of Darkness. Fred M. White
want pen and ink, and paper in my cell. Such things might be smuggled in, but to hide them afterwards would be almost impossible. I’m told such things are done, but only by the old, cunning hands, who know all the ropes. I have quite another idea, Alice. Up to an hour or so ago, I had abandoned it. One loses heart in this dreary place, where one day is so like another. I was full of fight once, but all the steel goes out of one in time. Let’s make the best of these precious moments. The warder will be here before long. He won’t stay like that all the afternoon. Tell me something of your life, of the friends who are still true to you. Tell me that you are happy, dear.”
She put her arms about him and kissed him tenderly.
“How can I be happy whilst you are here?” she asked. “It looks as if happiness and I have parted company for ever, Hugh. But I must not be selfish; I must think of you, darling. If you have a scheme for getting out of this place I should be glad to hear of it. Tell me.”
But Grenfell seemed incapable of anything but passionate outbursts of affection. He held the girl close to him, devouring her with kisses.
“Nothing matters so long as you are here,” he protested. “Why waste precious time in mere talk, darling? If you could only understand what it means to me——”
Alice was hardly listening. By craning her head she saw that the warder was on his feet again. His colleagues had resumed their duties. At some distance off a whistle was sounded. Grenfell started mechanically at the sound of it.
“I shall have to go,” he said. “They are beginning to collect the gangs. Good-bye, sweetheart. It is like a glimpse of heaven to have seen you again. Go to Russell Clench or write to him. He is a man you can trust implicitly.”
“But you did not say anything in regard to the warder, Joe Copping,” Alice insisted.
“Oh, I had forgotten that,” Grenfell said, with the faint suggestion of a smile. “Try Joe Copping, if you like, your Joe Copping, who lives outside the prison with his wife—being a married warder. How lucky you know them both so well! When you mentioned Copping I’m afraid I was not listening. I’m sure he’ll help us, dear. I rendered him a service a while ago, and he does his best to make things easy for me. The man has something the matter with his heart, though he keeps it to himself. He has a sick wife, as you know. But you must not go near her, Alice; it would not be fair.”
“You don’t think it would be honorable?” Alice asked timidly.
“I’m sure of it,” Grenfell said emphatically. “God knows, I would do much to get away from here, but not that way, child. Besides, my plan is the best, and Clench will say so. If——”
A whistle sounded harshly in Alice’s ears; it seemed to be close by. Grenfell caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately. Then he put her aside almost roughly, and was gone. Like one in a dream, Alice watched the gang march off in files in the direction of the prison. She wept again and a pain was at her heart. It was so horrible, so cruel, so unjust. He was innocent, nobody could look him in the face and doubt that. He had lost none of his rigid code of honor either.
But Alice could not see how, situated as he was, his life ruined by foul play, he should feel the grip of honor. Short of anything dishonest, the end, she held, would justify the means. Everything was against him; he had been the victim of a vile conspiracy on the part of a dead man, and the law had punished him as guilty. The State had prosecuted him and condemned him for a crime he had never committed. It was not an occasion for scrupulous methods. Possibly he had thought out a wise plan, and Russell Clench might be as brave and clever as a friend need be. But there could be no harm in having an alternative scheme. Alice pondered the matter on her way home. She was only too anxious to help in the good work. Money would be necessary, of course, and, surely, she could command it. She had also valuable jewellery; which she could pledge at Exeter.
She wrote her letter to Clench, directing him not to reply by post, but to meet her in a quiet spot near the house, when she could give him details. She had been under the impression lately that her correspondence was tampered with, and intended therefore to take no risks. She dropped her letter into the box and turned her footsteps homewards. She had seen nothing of Raymond Draycott, and had heard nothing beyond a message that he was very little better, and probably would be confined to his room for the next two or three days. Carl Moler had gone into Exeter on business, and was not expected till late in the evening.
Alice had time to consider her plans, at any rate. She would go as far as the Coppings’ cottage. She had never called there before, but felt certain Mary Copping would do anything for her. Still, she must be careful. Moler was out of the way for one thing, and Draycott was safe in his room. In these circumstances, Alice was greatly disturbed to meet Draycott in the woods at the back of the house, as she was making her way towards the cottage. What was more singular was that Draycott seemed to be more alarmed than she was.
“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked nervously. “It’s very odd I can’t go outside the house for a few minutes’ peace and solitude without meeting——”
His voice trailed off in a gurgle, and he looked horribly white and shaky, and there were big, dark rings round his eyes. He had a furtive, guilty look as if he had been discovered in wrongdoing. Alice noticed that his shoes were muddy, and that there was mud on his knees. There had been no rain for days, and she wondered where the mud could be. It flashed across her mind that he had been following somebody on his hands and knees.
But it behoved her to keep these ugly suspicions to herself. She was doing nothing wrong in being there, and Draycott read plainly what was at the back of her mind.
“How long has this road been private?” she asked coldly “I have heard you say over and over again that the wood is too dark and oppressive for you. But I love its beauty, and it is my favorite spot when I have a book to read. Still, if you like——”
Draycott changed his tone at once. He began to realise how illogical his mood was. Moreover, he was filling the girl’s mind with suspicions, and so he hastened to remove them.
“You must not pay too much heed to what I say, my dear,” he muttered. “I have had a very bad attack this time—perhaps the worst I have ever suffered. Moler told me that I was to stay in, but I couldn’t. I took advantage of his absence to have a stroll in the fresh air. I hoped if I came here I should not meet anybody. When I saw you I was foolishly annoyed. If you tell Moler——”
“I am not in the least likely to tell Dr. Moler anything,” Alice said indifferently. “So far as I am concerned, I shall be heartily glad when I see the last of him. I have not taken any special pains to conceal my opinion of your friend——”
Draycott drew his breath in sharply.
“He’s no friend of mine,” he whispered hoarsely. “He’s nobody’s friend. He came for a few days, and has stayed—good heavens! how long he has stayed? Years. But don’t make an enemy of him, nor let him know what I am talking about. What did I say?”
He drew his hand across his forehead with a touch of annoyance.
“You were warning me to be very careful with regard to Dr. Moler,” Alice rejoined.
“No, I wasn’t,” Draycott snapped. “If I said so, I was only chaffing. Moler is a good fellow, and he will make an excellent husband when the time comes. There’s not a girl in the country who would not be proud to become his wife. What are you staring at? I have had a fall and muddied my knees, but that’s nothing very uncommon, is it?”
His voice fell to a murmur, and once more he rubbed his eyes.
“I’m not well,” he went on, “as you can see, and when I’m in this poor, weak state I talk all kinds of rubbish. That infernal South American climate is responsible for everything, Alice. Don’t take a bit of notice of me, and you’ll be all right. I must go in and get my medicine. It is the most marvellous medicine in the world. It gives me the sleep I need so badly—it gives me——Walk in the wood, or sit in it, and come as often as you like, my dear. Good-bye.”
Alice