Chapter 8
Claud could hardly restrain a smile as he busied himself thus. The idea would occur to him of how ridiculous it was that he, Claud Cranmer, should be so occupied!--of what Mab would say if she could only see this preternatural, this business-like seriousness!--of what all the men at the "Eaton" would say!--of how they would shout with laughter at the idea of his posing as the hero of such a predicament!--of what a tale it would be for everyone down in the s.h.i.+res that autumn!
A voice from Allonby suddenly recalled him to the present. He approached the bed-side full of pity, trying to catch the fragments of speech which the sick man uttered with difficulty from time to time.
"And now farewell!--I am going a long way," said Allonby, and after a pause again repeated, "I am going a long way... if indeed I go,--for all my mind is clouded with a doubt,--to the island valley of----"
A pause, then again.
"To the island valley of--what is it? where is it? I forget--I cannot say it,--to the island valley of----"
"Avilion?" suggested Claud.
There was a sigh of relief.
"Yes--that's it! that's it! The Island Valley of Avilion, where I will heal me of my--grievous wound."
"Now I wonder what has put that into his head?" said Claud.
"Following up some previous train of thought most probably," said the doctor. "The subject for a picture I should say very likely. Let him be, poor lad."
Clara here tapped softly at the door, to say that the nurse had arrived; and Claud was despatched downstairs to send her up, the doctor remaining to give her directions.
Joe Battis.h.i.+ll and another young laborer were waiting at the door for "the gentleman's orders," and when he had sent up the nurse--a nice motherly, clean-looking woman,--he sat down to write out his telegram.
"Beg pardon, sir," said a big man, pus.h.i.+ng past the others to the table, "but I should like half-a-dozen words wi' ye. I'm Willum Clapp as keeps the 'Fountain Head,' and my missus be in a fine takin' about this poor young chap, an' I wants to hear all that's took place."
"Oh, you're the landlord of the 'Fountain Head,' are you?" said Claud, "you're just the man I wanted to see. Can you account in any way for this that has happened? What sort of man was your lodger, quiet?--peaceable?"
William Clapp
He was quiet, gentle, good-humored, and had his word and his joke for everyone. He had only received two letters since he came to Edge, one of which he put in the fire after reading it. This Mr. Clapp specially remembered, because his lodger had to come into the kitchen to accomplish the said feat, there being, naturally, no fire in the sitting-room. He had started from the inn that morning a little before mid-day, with his dinner done up in a blue handkerchief--
"And that minds me, sirr, to ask if Missus Battis.h.i.+ll could let my missus have back the handkercher and the pudding-dish, as there'll be sooch a-many dinners to send out to the hayfields to-morrow."
"Oh--certainly, I suppose Mrs. Clapp can have her things; just ask after them, some of you fellows. And now tell me," said Claud, "did Mr.
Allonby know anybody down in these parts?"
"No, sirr, I don't think he did."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure as can be, sirr. At least, if a did, a said nowt abaout it to me or the missus."
"n.o.body ever came to see him?"
"No, sirr, that I'm certain on!"
"Did he seem as if he had anything on his mind?"
"No, that a didn't, for my missus said as haow she neverr see such a light-hearted chap in herr life!"
Claud pondered deeply, nursing one knee and staring at the kitchen floor.
"You see, this is what bothers me, Mr. Clapp," he said. "It was an a.s.sault apparently without any motive whatever, for Mr. Allonby was not robbed."
"Eh, it's as queer a thing as ever I heard on, and as awful," said William Clapp. "In the meedst of life we are in death, as I've often heared in church, sirr! Why, the mowers in Miss Willoughby's gra.s.s, and Loud at the smithy, they see him go by a-laughing and a-giving everyone good-morning as perlite and well-mannered as could be; and the next one hears of him----!"
The farmer made an eloquent gesture with his hand.
"Well, I'm just writing a message to his people, Mr. Clapp," said Claud.
"I found a letter from his sister in London, and I thought the best thing to do was to telegraph for her to come straight."
"If _you_ please, sirr," said the landlord, "anything me or my missus can do----"
"I am sure of it, and thank you kindly. I may want a bed at your house to-morrow night, but I'll let you know."
He rapidly pencilled a message to--
_Miss Wyn Allonby, 7 Mansfield Road, London, S. W._
Then paused a minute.
"I don't even know whether she's married or not," he reflected.
"However, I should think this would find her any way; people usually open telegrams."
He wrote:
"_Accident to Mr. Allonby. Serious. Has been taken to Poole Farm.
11.30 train Waterloo to Stanton shall be met to-morrow._"
He glanced up at the landlord.
"I will add your name," he said, "and address,--it will be better."
So he added, "Clapp, Fountain Head Inn," and pa.s.sed the paper over to Joe Battis.h.i.+ll, who gravely began to count the syllables.
"One and twopence, please, sir," said Joe.
Claud tossed him half-a-crown.
"You'll want something when you get to Stanton," he said; "you can keep the change."
Clara came creeping down the stair, looking white and nervous.
"Please, sir, mother say she never saw no blue handkercher nor pudding-basin neither."
"Eh?" said Claud. "Well, now I come to think of it, no more did I; I suppose it was left by the wayside."
"I'll be bold to say it wasn't," said William Clapp, "for I walked oop right past the place, and I should a known my missus's dish-clout, bless yer."