Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Read online

  When Mansel told me all this—for I cannot speak German, and had understood next to nothing of what had been said—I could have thrown up my hat; and even he was very plainly elated to think that, except for Ellis, our way was so easy and clear. The breakfast was served, but I could hardly swallow for sheer excitement, so that Mansel advised me to think upon fishing and troutstreams, “because,” said he, gravely, “such contemplation is not only very restful, but very much in point, for, remember, it is trout that has brought us to these parts, and, if we like Wagensburg, we do so because it will make an agreeable fishing-lodge.”

  Since Mansel never spoke without reason, I strove to do as he said, but I fear my reflections upon angling were incoherent and of no value, for fish are not found in wells, nor do ropes and lanterns form part of an angler’s kit. Before, however, the landlord was back with the keys, Mansel had me in hand, and when the former reappeared, I was listening to such a discourse upon flies as must, I think, have interested the most unlikely fisherman that ever was born. To round the picture, the host was brought into the session and made free of Mansel’s words, to which, since he was something of an angler, he responded so warmly that I began to think that we should never start, or that, at any rate, Ellis or one of his confederates would first appear.

  However, at last we left, with the landlord sitting with Carson in the back of the car.

  We crossed the bridge, and, almost immediately leaving the main road, turned to the right up a narrower, rougher way, which, it presently appeared, led only to Wagensburg. For a while the road ran by the river; then it climbed up gradually into the woods and finally lay like a shelf cut out of the side of the forest above the water and tilted up like a ramp to the castle itself. To this there was no gateway, but the road ran right on to the terrace, the wall of which we had seen from the other side. The house was long and low, and stood upon two sides of a pleasant courtyard, to which, upon its third side, the terrace made an apron, with a row of sweet-smelling limes standing between the two. Upon the fourth side stood the stables and the chapel, with a mighty gateway between: through this gateway the road we had used went on, leading so far as I could see, to woods and hanging pastures, and made, undoubtedly, to serve the estate. There were trees in the courtyard, and, a little to one side, by the house, an old parapeted well.

  The sun was shining full on the terrace, and Mansel drove into the courtyard and stopped in the shade.

  Then we alighted, and the landlord took us over the house.

  This was agreeable, and full of fine, big rooms; but there was no running water, and a lot would have had to be done to turn the mansion into a comfortable home.

  Mansel, however, seemed well pleased with all that he saw and took good stock of everything, counting up the bedrooms, stepping the salons, and snuffing the air for damp, as though he seriously contemplated taking up residence there for good and all.

  At last he turned to the landlord.

  “And now about water,” he said. “That’s so often the stumbling block with these castles up in the hills.”

  At once the landlord insisted that the supply was superb. No castle in all Carinthia, he declared, was better furnished with water.

  “Good,” said Mansel, “I’m glad to hear it, because, as a rule, with a well so close to a cliff—”

  Here the host interrupted to say that the well in the courtyard had little worth. That, he explained, was the original well; but, as Mansel had surmised, it was dug too close to the cliff, and its gift was meagre and uncertain. Years ago another well had been dug in the meadows beyond the gateway, a well of great size and depth, the springs of which had never been known to fail, which was so much of a wonder that it was more famous than the castle itself, and was still known thereabouts as The Great Well of Wagensburg.

  “Well, that’s all right,” said Mansel. “I suppose the water’s good.”

  “The water is excellent, sir, and clear as crystal.”

  “When was it last cleaned out?”

  The landlord threw up his hands.

  “Clean out The Great Well of Wagensburg! Why, sir, it is bottomless. I do not suppose it could be done. But the water is perfect: that I will guarantee.”

  Mansel frowned and put his head on one side.

  “All wells should be cleaned from time to time. Never mind. Where does it lie?”

  We followed the landlord out of the courtyard, past the chapel and stables and into a wood. Two minutes later we turned into a fair meadow that sloped gently to another wood upon the opposite side. And in the midst of the meadow lay the great well.

  When we came near, it was clear that it merited its name.

  Twelve feet across it was, with a broad stone parapet about it and a turret-shaped roof above.

  Four pillars were supporting the roof, and two of these held the windlass, which was a massive business, laden with a quantity of chain. Bucket there was none, but an empty hook was dangling over the depths.

  When he saw there was no bucket, the landlord’s face fell; but, after a moment, he said that no doubt it had been put in the stables against being carried off, and, begging us to await his return, started back the way we had come.

  While he was gone, we walked to the farther wood and gradually round the meadow, which we found was something of a plateau, for the ground fell away on three sides and only rose on one, that is to say on the side of the farther wood; here it soon rose very sharply into a peak, which commanded a view of the castle and some of the path we had come, as well as for some distance the two approaches to the meadow on which there was no wood.

  Whilst we were looking about us, we perceived the landlord returning, bucket in hand, and, when we got back to the well, he and Carson were lowering it into the depths.

  The water came up clear and clean and cold, to the great glee of the landlord, who seemed by that circumstance to consider his protests proved, although there was nothing to show how much there was in the well, or whether the water itself was fit to drink. Mansel, however, appeared satisfied, and, after some further discussion, we made our way back to the castle by the path through the wood.

  Thence we drove back to Lerai; and presently, having rewarded the innkeeper and declared that, if we bought Wagensburg, he should be our agent for obtaining supplies, left, as was only to be expected, amid a perfect flurry of “nods and becks and wreathed smiles.”

  As we drove out of the village:

  “The art of life,” said Mansel, “is to make valuable friends.”

  For the next three hours we proved the country round about, identifying castles and villages and, thanks to the power of the car, covering a great deal of ground. Then at last we turned North and ran into Salzburg that night at eleven o’clock.

  Hanbury was glad to see us, and was naturally agog to hear our tale, but he had no news beyond that he had found the offices of the principal house-agents and thought he had seen Ellis at the door of our hotel.

  Herein he was right.

  When Mansel visited a house-agent on the following day and, after inquiries, announced that he was disposed to purchase Wagensburg, the agent opened his eyes.

  “Sir,” he said, “you are a few hours too late. Wagensburg is not sold, but it is not for sale. By a curious coincidence I granted an option to purchase this very property yesterday afternoon.”

  3. The Battle with the Springs

  When, ten minutes later, Mansel sat down on a bench and told us that we were forestalled, Hanbury and I stared at each other in dismay.

  Before we could speak, Mansel proceeded to take the whole of the blame.

  “I chose the wrong evil,” he said. “We had six hours’ start of Ellis, and I threw it away. I thought I was fighting a battle when I was running a race. And that was a bad mistake. And now we’ve all three got to think. Ellis has got the wheel, with the Law behind him; we’ve got the chart. The very least he expects is a compromise.”

  “Never,” I said.

  I agree,” said
Mansel, “for every reason. And that’s why we’ve got to think how to get the wheel.”

  He rose then, and, promising to return in half an hour, sauntered away with Tester at his heels.

  Hanbury and I sat still in the bright sunshine, saying little, but racking our brains for some way out of the pass.

  To me it seemed to be surely a case of stalemate, a position which could only be relieved by our withdrawal from the field. If we had plainly retired, Ellis would hesitate to purchase, for to expend two or three thousand pounds on preventing another from taking you would like to enjoy is the investment of a Croesus, and, though there was a chance that this purchase would suggest to us the wisdom of coming to terms, to stake so much money so blindly would be unwarrantable. And I think that Hanbury thought the same, for beyond insisting that Mansel had made no mistake, to which I heartily agreed, he only remarked that the race was seldom to the swift, and that he was glad to have seen Salzburg.

  The half-hour had not expired before Mansel came back, and, after glancing at his watch, sat down on the bench between us and asked me once again to describe Ellis.

  I did so carefully.

  “That was the fellow I saw,” said Hanbury.

  “Very well,” said Mansel. “Now, listen. A week ago in London we dined at the Carlton Grill. There and then we agreed to buy Wagensburg, if the place was for sale. At the table next to us was seated a coarse-looking man, who seemed more than once to be listening to what we said. All of us noticed this, but, after we left the grill-room, we thought no more of the matter and went our ways. Yesterday we saw him again in the streets of Salzburg, and it occurs to us that he is the man who holds an option to purchase Wagensburg. If we are right, it is clear that he is no genuine purchaser, but an unprincipled villain, who is merely seeking to enrich himself at the vendors expense.” With that he rose to his feet and knocked out his pipe. “And now, we’ll go back to the house-agent. We’re all very angry, you know, but if I seem too much annoyed you can try to calm me down.”

  What followed I shall never forget.

  By the time we arrived at the office, Mansel was seemingly beside himself with rage, and, when we were presently admitted to the agent’s room, he began to storm and rave like any madman. At first, such was his incoherence, that the agent was frightened to death, but, so soon as he gathered that Mansel was not angry with him, but with some common enemy, he became greatly excited, and, apparently catching the frenzy which possessed Mansel, demanded with howls of fury to be informed of the truth. This he was so long denied that I thought he would have lost his reason, for Mansel, while withholding the facts, never ceased to recite the most horrid and galling conclusions, and the unfortunate agent was actually squinting with emotion when Mansel had mercy upon him and told him his tale.

  To judge from its effect, he told it very well, for, long before he had finished, the agent’s eyes were burning with wrath and indignation, and, when Mansel said he would wager that Ellis had never set foot in Carinthia, much less laid eyes upon Wagensburg, the other screeched that it was true, and that, when he had opened and shown him his book of photographs of properties for sale, Ellis had actually studied the opposite page. That Mansel would not have committed such an error was very obvious, for he had spoken throughout as though he knew Carinthia as well as the palm of his hand, and had constantly referred to castles and villages by name and to Wagensburg itself with a skillful familiarity which would have deceived a Judge. Indeed, all things considered, it was not at all surprising that the agent was swept off his feet and, snatching up a copy of the letter he had yesterday sent to Ellis, thrust it into Mansel’s hands and demanded brokenly to be told what he should do.

  The letter acknowledged the receipt of five pounds, and stated that, by virtue of having paid that sum, Ellis had secured the sole right to purchase Wagensburg for two thousand five hundred pounds, and that this right would endure for one calendar month.

  “Lease me the property today,” said Mansel, laying the letter down, “for fifty years at a rent of five pounds a year; in return, I’ll undertake, if Ellis doesn’t exercise his option—and when he hears of the lease I don’t believe he will—to purchase Wagensburg forthwith for three thousand pounds.”

  For a moment the agent stared, then he began to laugh like a maniac; and Mansel with him.

  The two laughed till they cried, as did Hanbury and I, for, though we did not understand what was the joke, unmoved to witness such paroxysms of mirth was beyond our power.

  At last:

  “Prepare the papers,” said Mansel, sinking into a chair and taking out bank-notes. “I’ll give you three hundred pounds as an earnest of the purchase price, to be returned to me if Ellis goes on.”

  With that, he turned to Hanbury and me and told us what he had arranged, while the agent ran into an adjoining room and began to give instructions to one of his clerks. Very soon we heard a typewriter in action and within half an hour the two Agreements had been signed. Then Mansel wrote the agent a cheque for twenty-five pounds and said that that was compensation for the trouble and annoyance he had caused by discussing his private affairs in a public place; and so we parted, full of goodwill and understanding, which were immensely enhanced by the knowledge that we had undone a common enemy.

  At six o’clock the next morning we left for Lerai, servants and baggage and all, in the two cars. We spent the night at the inn, and the next day, in compliance with instructions from Salzburg, the postmaster brought us the keys of Wagensburg.

  Be sure we had taken possession within the hour.

  To pick our quarters was plainly the first thing to do, and, after a short consideration, we decided to use the kitchen and servants’ hall. These were both spacious, and looked not into the courtyard, but on to the woods and meadows towards the great well. They were served by a decent hall, with a house door at either end, and a passage led into the stables by way of a harness-room. All this was very convenient. As well as possessing a certain privacy, the rooms were easy of access and could be approached directly from either side of the mansion; once within the stables, the cars would be under our hand; and, whether they were in the kitchen or in the harness-room, where it was arranged they should sleep, the servants would never be more than a few steps away.

  So soon as the decision was taken, that part of the house was opened, the stable doors were set wide and the servants fell to cleaning our quarters as hard as they could “for,” said Mansel, “once we’re dug in, we’ve little or nothing to fear; but come on a man whose house is out of order, and you’ve an ally in his camp who is worth as much as yourself.”

  Then he gave me a map and binocular, and asked me to stay on the terrace as sentinel, desiring me to locate what roads I could see and, when I had done that, to take Tester and prove the ground towards Lerai and see if there was a spot conveniently near from which the village and the bridge could be observed.

  Then he and Hanbury began to unload the cars, unpacking the stores which we had bought at Salzburg and disclosing a quantity of stuff which we had brought from England, prominent among which were some electrical apparatus and a great deal of wire.

  I saw no more, for I had my work to do, but, when I came back with my report—which was negative, for I could discover no point at all reasonably near from which the village could be viewed—two of the servants were washing the empty cars, the kitchen fire was burning, the hall was full of gear, orderly arranged, a table was set for luncheon under a tree, and the band of a well-known London restaurant was making us free of a selection from La Bohème.

  When our meal was over, we sat and smoked on the terrace, while the servants were eating theirs, and then, for the first time, I began to appreciate the full charm of our surroundings.

  The grandeur of the landscape which the terrace was commanding, as no royal box ever commanded a stage, the dignity of the pleasance upon which we sat, and the high woods all about us, made our present life seem like a handsome dream; and the silence, the su
nlight and the sweet air showed me a side of Nature such as I never expected to see anywhere else.

  My musing, however, was soon ended, for Mansel asked me to point out the roads I had managed to identify, and, though these were few, before he and Hanbury had imbibed what information I had, the servants had finished eating and Carson and Bell had returned to their work on the cars.

  We then went to work with the wire which Mansel had brought, and, after two hours, had laid an invisible trap across the road of approach, and clean around the castle as far as the garden door which we were to use This we connected to a battery, and then to a bell which hung in the kitchen hall, and, after a little adjustment, to our great content the arrangement worked very well for the slightest pressure at any point was instantly reported. Then we laid a wire between the stables and the kitchen, and another from the kitchen to the great well, and so established a means of communication which might at any moment prove of great value. When this had been done, we turned our attention to installing electric light, and before sundown our quarters were adequately illuminated, and the search-light which belonged to the Rolls was able, at our will, to reveal the depths of the well, as I will warrant they had never been revealed before. Then supper was served, and Mansel drew up some orders for the following day. These will sufficiently appear, but he wrote out some general orders which stayed pinned up in the hall, and, so far as I can remember, this was how they ran.

  (1) Reveille at 4 a.m.

  Breakfast at 7 a.m.

  Supper one hour after sundown.

  (2) No light of any kind which can be seen from the courtyard will be shown even for an instant.

  (3) Accumulators will be charged, if necessary, from 4.15 a.m. and, in any event, each engine will be started and run for five minutes from that hour.

  (4) So long as any sign of occupation can be seen from the courtyard, the road of approach will be watched.

  (5) The alarm tape, wires and bells will be tested at reveille, dinnertime and sundown.