The Black Box 2
"Fine!" I answered warmly. "Why, man, ’twould make a book!"
He gave a cracking laugh and said:
"Nay, no writing books for me, friend; my skill lies not in that
direction; nor, if it did, would I attempt such work. Rather would I
clean forget the horrid business. But alack! I cannot, for ever and
anon it comes upon me suddenly, even as it did just now when you rode
up; and then I see naught, hear naught, save those black-skinned
murderous knaves as they leapt about us on that awful night. Faith!" he
added, rising quickly and passing a hand across his forehead, "let us
talk of something else before the vision comes once more upon me. Say
you that Lyme is but three miles from here?"
"Well, to be quite exact, between that and four."
"And know you much about the place?"
"Just a little, seeing that I have been born and bred there."
"Ah! say you so? Then, truly, you must know many people there?"
"A few."
"Didst ever come across one Gilbert Fane?"
"Well, now," I answered, smiling, "’tis not unusual for one to come
across one’s father, is it?"
At that the fellow gave a little start.
"What!" says he. "Your father! He is alive, then?"
"Aye, truly, that he is," I answered, laughing. "At least, he was an
hour ago."
"Well, well, now, just to think of it!" he murmured, rubbing his chin as
though in deep perplexity. "Save us! ’tis strange, indeed!"
"How so?" I asked. "Dost know my father?"
"Nay, that I do not; but ’tis passing strange that I should meet his son
upon this road and tell him what I have."
"How so?" I asked again. "What mystery is this?"
"’Tis no mystery, friend," he answered, looking out to sea, "but truly
it is passing wonderful. Listen. I did not tell you that the man who
gave me this grey suit fell sick, died, and was buried while we were
still at sea. But so, alas! it was; and as I sat beside him when he lay
a-raving in high fever, the name of Lyme was ever on his lips, together
with the names of divers people, and one of these I swear was Gilbert
Fane; for, although I took small notice at the time, your mention of it
brings it clearly back to me. Now say, friend, is not all this strange
beyond compare?"
"It is, indeed," I murmured, looking at him fixedly, as he stood with
half-closed eyes before me. "And what was this luckless fellow’s name?"
"Would that I could tell you; but I cannot. They picked him up at some
outlandish place, and methinks ’twas that which made him treat me with
such kindness; but when he died he left naught save his clothes, some
knick-knacks, and a sword. There were no papers. The captain had his
sword and clothes. One day as we sat a-talking he did let fall his name
as if by accident; but then I took no heed, and so have clean forgotten
it. Yet, if I heard it now, methinks I might remember it."
"But say, what manner of man was he?"
"A fine, upstanding fellow, with a ruddy face."
"Ah, there are, and have been, many such in Lyme. But, look you, if you
care to come with me to our house, The Havering, methinks my father
might assist you."
"Ah, many thanks, good friend, but ’twould be of no avail. I am but
come to Lyme because he talked so much of it; and because I thought, by
searching among the gravestones in your churchyard, I might perchance
light on his name, and thus remember it. Aye, verily, I loved that man."
"How long have you been in England?"
"I came ashore three days ago at Bristol, and have been walking ever
since."
"You must be weary, then."
"No; but I am wondrous poor. Look you, friend, I am so needy that for a
groat I would climb this towering larch tree, and swing among the
branches at the top."
"Do it," said I, by way of proving him.
Instantly he sprang upon the tree, and went up it like a monkey. And
when he reached the top he leapt from branch to branch, whistling and
swinging, till I felt certain he must miss his hold and come tumbling
down.
"Bravo! Well done!" I cried. "Come down for your reward."
Down he came at a speed which fairly took my breath away, and then
stood, cap in hand, before me, as calm as if he had never left his
tussock.
Bringing forth a handful of silver pieces (I never lacked for money) I
picked a shilling out and gave it to him.
"This is too much," quoth he, with shaking head; "and were not my
necessity so great I would not take it."
"Nay, ’tis well earned," I answered; "but may I ask a favour? The trick
you showed me with the little balls--wilt do that again?"
"With all my heart," says he; and forthwith did it; and many others,
too, still more astonishing.
"More work, more pay," said I, when he had finished. "Here is another
shilling. And, look you, if you care to call at our house, The
Havering--’tis a lonesome place a mile or so from Lyme, and well-beknown
to all--if you choose to call, I say, you may be certain of a welcome.
My father, I’ll wager, would rejoice to see those tricks of yours. And
that reminds me; you have my name, friend--prithee, what is yours?"
"Well, ’tis a passing curious one," he answered, grinning like a skull.
"Nay, worse than that, ’tis downright heathenish and wicked--Tubal
Ammon--as black a name, I trow, as ever was."
"Well, well," said I, consolingly, "you did not name yourself; and ’tis
at least one easily remembered. So now, friend Ammon, here is a right
good evening to you; and, as I said before, if you choose to call upon
us at The Havering you may be certain of a right hearty welcome."
With that I would have ridden off, but he touched my arm and said:
"Stay! I would fain return such kindness by showing thee some very
curious things. See," he added, bringing forth a little carven case,
"here is a tiny bow and arrows. Toys, say you? and yet the veriest
scratch from one of these fine points means death; for they are
poisoned. Again, this amulet, the which I keep so thickly wrapped in
cloth: behold how richly it is carved, how beautiful and innocent it
looks; but wear it for an hour and you are dead, for, likewise, it is
poisoned. And, yet again, this tiny wooden dart, scarce bigger than a
tailor’s needle; one prick from it means death--poisoned also. The
wretches that I lived with use these things, and many more besides, for
secret killing. Take them in your hands, good sir, I pray you. Your
gloves will save all harm. Examine them and see how finely they are
wrought."
I did so; and was bending over them in gloating fashion when a gentle
click aroused me, and, turning suddenly, I found the muzzle of a pistol
close beside my head, with an evil, grinning face beyond it.
"Good friend," said Tubal Ammon, "thou art rich and I am very needy.
Give me all thou hast, and give it quickly."
This was an ugly business, sure enough. I was unarmed, while a bullet
with scarce a foot to travel could not fail to hit the mark. Yes; the
pressure of a finger meant sure death, nor did I doubt the rascal’s
villainous intention, even if I gave him what he asked; for either he
would shoot me as I got the money out or as I turned to ride away. My
horse was just the very thing he wanted. Thus I argued swiftly with
myself, and saw that to dissemble was my only hope.
"Well, now," said I, looking straight along the pistol into his
squinting face, "this is indeed a poor return for favours; still,
advantage counts for everything, and needs must when the devil drives.
So, if you will kindly lower your weapon, friend, for fear of accidents,
I will oblige you."
He fell into the trap. Down went the pistol, and, with a greedy look,
he drew quite close. Next moment I had kicked him in the wind with all
my might, and sent him flying backward to the ground. Then, as he lay
there gasping, I threw his poisonous relics over him, and with a gay
"Good morrow to you, Master Ammon!" galloped off.
"A murderous footpad--nothing more or less," I muttered, as we dropped
into a walk. "Well, ’tis a handsome warning not to ride again unarmed
on byways, even on a summer’s evening; and at least the rascal got a
warning too."
That was how I summed the matter up; but, as you will see hereafter, it
had been greatly better for us all if Tubal Ammon had been lying dead upon the road behind me.
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