CHAPTER VII
THE STOEP
When I reached Miss Heda she was collecting half-opened monthly
roses from the hedge, and not quite knowing what to say I made
the appropriate quotation. At least it was appropriate to my
thought, and, from her answer, to hers also.
"Yes," she said, "I am gathering them while I may," and she
sighed and, as I thought, glanced towards the verandah, though of
this I could not be sure because of the wide brim of the hat she
was wearing.
Then we talked a little on indifferent matters, while I pricked
my fingers helping to pluck the roses. She asked me if I thought
that Anscombe was getting on well, and how long it would be
before he could travel. I replied that Dr. Rodd could tell her
better than myself, but that I hoped in about a week.
"In a week!" she said, and although she tried to speak lightly
there was dismay in her voice.
"I hope you don't think it too long," I answered; "but even if he
is fit to go, the oxen have not come yet, and I don't quite know
when they will."
"Too long!" she exclaimed. "Too long! Oh! if you only knew what
it is to me to have such guests as you are in this place," and
her dark eyes filled with tears.
By now we had passed to the side of the house in search of some
other flower that grew in the shade, I think it was mignonette,
and were out of sight of the verandah and quite alone.
"Mr. Quatermain," she said hurriedly, "I am wondering whether to
ask your advice about something, if you would give it. I have no
one to consult here," she added rather piteously.
"That is for you to decide. If you wish to do so I am old enough
to be your father, and will do my best to help."
We walked on to an orange grove that stood about forty yards
away, ostensibly to pick some fruit, but really because we knew
that there we should be out of hearing and could see any one who
approached.
"Mr. Quatermain," she said presently in a low voice, I am in
great trouble, almost the greatest a woman can have. I am
engaged to be married to a man whom I do not care for.
"Then why not break it off? It may be unpleasant, but it is
generally best to face unpleasant things, and nothing can be so
bad as marrying a man whom you do
not--care for.
"Because I cannot--I dare not. I have to obey."
"How old are you, Miss Marnham?"
"I shall be of age in three months' time. You may guess that I
did not intend to return here until they were over, but I was,
well--trapped. He wrote to me that my father was ill and I
came."
"At any rate when they are over you will not have to obey any
one. It is not long to wait."
"It is an eternity. Besides this is not so much a question of
obedience as of duty and of love. I love my father who, whatever
his faults, has always been very kind to me."
"And I am sure he loves you. Why not go to him and tell him your
trouble?"
"He knows it already, Mr. Quatermain, and hates this marriage
even more than I do, if that is possible. But he is driven to
it, as I am. Oh! I must tell the truth. The doctor has some
hold over him. My father has done something dreadful; I don't
know what and I don't want to know, but if it came out it would
ruin my father, or worse, worse. I am the price of his silence.
On the day of our marriage he will destroy the proofs. If I
refuse to marry him, they will be produced and then--"
"It is difficult," I said.
"It is more than difficult, it is terrible. If you could see all
there is in my heart, you would know how terrible."
"I think I can see, Miss Heda. Don't say any more now. Give me
time to consider. In case of necessity come to me again, and be
sure that I will protect you."
"But you are going in a week."
"Many things happen in a week. Sufficient to the day is its
evil. At the end of the week we will come to some decision
unless everything is already decided."
For the next twenty-four hours I reflected on this pretty problem
as hard as ever I did on anything in all my life. Here was a
young woman who must somehow protected from a scoundrel, but who
could not be protected because she herself had to protect another
scoundrel--to wit, her own father. Could the thing be faced out?
Impossible, for I was sure that Marnham had committed a murder,
or murders, of which Rodd possessed evidence that would hang him.
Could Heda be married to Anscombe at once? Yes, if both were
willing, but then Marnham would still be hung. Could they elope?
Possibly, but with the same result. Could I take her away and
put her under the protection of the Court at Pretoria? Yes, but
with the same result. I wondered what my Hottentot retainer,
Hans, would have advised, he who was named Light-in-Darkness, and
in his own savage way was the cleverest and most cunning man that
I have met. Alas! I could not raise him from the grave to tell
me, and yet I knew well what he would have answered.
"Baas," he would have said, "this is a rope which only the pale
old man (i.e. death) can cut. Let this doctor die or let the
father die, and the maiden will be free. Surely heaven is
longing for one or both of them, and if necessary, Baas, I
believe that I can point out a path to heaven!"
I laughed to myself at the thought, which was one that a white
man could not entertain even as a thought. And I felt that the
hypothetical Hans was right, death alone could cut this knot, and
the reflection made me shiver.
That night I slept uneasily and dreamed. I dreamed that once
more I was in the Black Kloof in Zululand, seated in front of the
huts at the end of the kloof. Before me squatted the old wizard,
Zikali, wrapped up in his kaross--Zikali, the
"Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born," whom I had not seen for
years. Near him were the ashes of a fire, by the help of which I
knew he had been practising divination. He looked up and laughed
one of his terrible laughs.
"So you are here again, Macumazahn," he said, "grown older, but
still the same; here at the appointed hour. What do you come to
seek from the Opener of Roads? Not Mameena as I think this time.
No, no, it is she who seeks you this time, Macumazahn. She found
you once, did she not? Far away to the north among a strange
people who worshipped an Ivory Child, a people of whom I knew in
my youth, and afterwards, for was not their prophet, Harut, a
friend of mine and one of our brotherhood? She found you beneath
the tusks of the elephant, Jana, whom Macumazahn the skilful
could not hit. Oh! do not look astonished."
"How do you know?" I asked in my dream.
"Very simply, Macumazahn. A little yellow man named Hans has
been with me and told me all the story not an hour ago, after
which I sent for Mameena to learn if it were true. She will be
glad to meet you, Macumazahn, she who has a hungry heart that
does not forget. Oh! don't be afraid. I mean here beneath the
sun, in the land beyond there will be no need for her to meet you
since she will dwell ever at your side."
"Why do you lie to me, Zikali?" I seemed to ask. "How can a dead
man speak to you and how can I meet a woman who is dead?"
"Seek the answer to that question in the hour of the battle when
the white men, your brothers, fall beneath assegai as weeds fall
before the hoe--or perhaps before it. But have done with
Mameena, since she who never grows more old can well afford to
wait. It is not of Mameena that you came to speak to me; it is
of a fair white woman named Heddana you would speak, and of the
man she loves, you, who will ever be mixing yourself up in
affairs of others, and therefore must bear their burdens with no
pay save that of honour. Hearken, for the time is short. When
the storm bursts upon them bring hither the fair maiden, Heddana,
and the white lord, Mauriti, and I will shelter them for your
sake. Take them nowhere else. Bring them hither if they would
escape trouble. I shall be glad to see you, Macumazahn, for at
last I am about to smite the Zulu House of Senzangacona, my foes,
with a bladder full of blood, and oh! it stains their doorposts
red."
Then I woke up, feeling afraid, as one does after a nightmare,
and was comforted to hear Anscombe sleeping quietly on the other
side of the room.
"Mauriti. Why did Zikali call him Mauriti?" I wondered drowsily
to myself. "Oh! of course his name is Maurice, and it was a Zulu
corruption of a common sort as was Heddana of Heda." Then I
dozed off again, and by the morning had forgotten all about my
dream until it was brought back to me by subsequent events.
Still it was this and nothing else that put it into my head to
fly to Zululand on an emergency that was to arise ere long.*
[*--For the history of Zikali and Mameena see the book called
_Child of Storm_ by H. Rider Haggard.]
That evening Rodd was absent from dinner, and on inquiring where
he might be, I was informed that he had ridden to visit a Kaffir
headman, a patient of his who lived at a distance, and would very
probably sleep at the kraal, returning early next day. One of
the topics of conversation during dinner was as to where the
exact boundary line used to run between the Transvaal and the
country over which the Basuto chief, Sekukuni, claimed ownership
and jurisdiction. Marnham said that it passed within a couple of
miles of his house, and when we rose, the moon being very bright,
offered to show me where the beacons had been placed years before
by a Boer Commission. I accepted, as the night was lovely for a
stroll after the hot day. Also I was half conscious of another
undefined purpose in my mind, which perhaps may have spread to
that of Marnham. Those two young people looked very happy
together there on the stoep, and as they must part so soon it
would, I thought, be kind to give them the opportunity of a quiet
chat.
So off we went to the brow of the hill on which the Temple stood,
whence old Marnham pointed out to me a beacon, which I could not
see in the dim, silvery bush-veld below, and how the line ran
from it to another beacon somewhere else.
"You know the Yellow-wood swamp," he said. "It passes straight
through that. That is why those Basutos who were following you
pulled up upon the edge of the swamp, though as a matter of fact,
according to their ideas, they had a perfect right to kill you on
their side of the line which cuts through the middle."
I made some remark to the effect that I presumed that the line
had in fact ceased to exist at all, as the Basuto territory had
practically become British; after which we strolled back to the
house. Walking quietly between the tall rose hedges and without
speaking, for each of us was preoccupied with his own thoughts,
suddenly we came upon a very pretty scene.
We had left Anscombe and Heda seated side by side on the stoep.
They were still there, but much closer together. In fact his
arms were round her, and they were kissing each other in a
remarkably whole-hearted way. About this there could be no
mistake, since the rimpi-strung couch on which they sat was
immediately under the hanging lamp--a somewhat unfortunate
situation for such endearments. But what did they think of
hanging lamps or any other lights, save those of their own eyes,
they who were content to kiss and murmur words of passion as
though they were as much alone as Adam and Eve in Eden? What did
they think either of the serpent coiled about the bole of this
tree of knowledge whereof they had just plucked the ripe and
maddening fruit?
By a mutual instinct Marnham and I withdrew ourselves, very
gently indeed, purposing to skirt round the house and enter it
from behind, or to be seized with a fit of coughing at the gate,
or to do something to announce our presence at a convenient
distance. When we had gone a little way we heard a crash in the
bushes.
"Another of those cursed baboons robbing the garden," remarked
Marnham reflectively.
"I think he is going to rob the house also," I replied, turning
to point to something dark that seemed to be leaping up on to the
verandah.
Next moment we heard Heda utter a little cry of alarm, and a man
say in a low fierce voice-
"So I have caught you at last, have I!"
"The doctor has returned from his business rounds sooner than was
expected, and I think that we had better join the party," I
remarked, and made a bee line for the stoep, Marnham following
me.
I think that I arrived just in time to prevent mischief. There,
with a revolver in his hand, stood Rodd, tall and formidable, his
dark face looking like that of Satan himself, a very monument of
rage and jealousy. There in front of him on the couch sat Heda,
grasping its edge with her fingers, her cheeks as pale as a sheet
and her eyes shining. By her side was Anscombe, cool and
collected as usual, I noticed, but evidently perplexed.
"If there is any shooting to be done," he was saying, "I think
you had better begin with me."
His calmness seemed to exasperate Rodd, who lifted the revolver.
But I too was prepared, for in that house I always went armed.
There was no time to get at the man, who was perhaps fifteen feet
away, and I did not want to hurt him. So I did the best I could;
that is, I fired at the pistol in his hand, and the light being
good, struck it near the hilt and knocked it off the barrel
before the he could press the trigger, if he really meant to
shoot.
"That's a good shot," remarked Anscombe who had seen me, while
Rodd stared at the hilt which he still held.
"A lucky one," I answered, walking forward. "And now, Dr. Rodd,
will you be so good as to tell me what you mean by flourishing a
revolver, presumably loaded, in the faces of a lady and an
unarmed man?"
"What the devil is that to you," he asked furiously, "and what do
you mean by firing at me?"
"A great deal," I answered, "seeing that a young woman and my
friend are concerned. As for firing at you, had I done so you
would not be asking questions now. I fired at the pistol in your
hand, but if there is more trouble next time it shall be at the
holder," and I glanced at my revolver.
Seeing that I meant business he made no reply, but turned upon
Marnham who had followed me.
"This is your work, you old villain," he said in a low voice that
was heavy with hate. "You promised your daughter to me. She is
engaged to me, and now I find her in this wanderer's arms."
"What have I to do with it?" said Marnham. "Perhaps she has
changed her mind. You had better ask her."
"There is no need to ask me," interrupted Heda, who now seemed to
have got her nerve again. "I _have_ changed my mind. I never
loved you, Dr. Rodd, and I will not marry you. I love Mr.
Anscombe here, and as he has asked me to be his wife I mean to
marry him."
"I see," he sneered, "you want to be a peeress one day, no doubt.
Well, you never shall if I can help it. Perhaps, too, this fine
gentleman of yours will not be so particularly anxious to marry
you when he learns that you are the daughter of a murderer."
That word was like a bombshell bursting among us. We looked at
each other as people, yet dazed with the shock, might on a
battlefield when the noise of the explosion has died and the
smoke cleared away, to see who is still alive. Anscombe spoke
the first.
"I don't know what you mean or to what you refer," he said
quietly. "But at any rate this lady who has promised to marry me
is innocent, and therefore if all her ancestors had been
murderers it would not in the slightest turn me from my purpose
of marrying her."
She looked at him, and all the gratitude in the world shone in
her frightened eyes. Marnham stepped, or rather staggered
forward, the blue vein throbbing on forehead.
"He lies," he said hoarsely, tugging at his long beard. "Listen
now and I will tell you the truth. Once, more than a year ago, I
was drunk and in a rage. In this state I fired at a Kaffir to
frighten him, and by some devil's chance shot him dead. That's
what he calls being a murderer."
"I have another tale," said Rodd, "with which I will not trouble
this company just now. Look here, Heda, either you fulfil your
promise and marry me, or your father swings."
She gasped and sank together on the seat as though she had been
shot. Then I took up my parable.
"Are you the man," I asked, "to accuse others of crime? Let us
see. You have spent several months in an English prison (I gave
the name) for a crime I won't mention."
"How do you know--" he began.
"Never mind, I do know and the prison books will show it.
Further, your business is that of selling guns and ammunition to
the Basutos of Sekukuni's tribe, who, although the expedition
against them has been temporarily recalled, are still the Queen's
enemies. Don't deny it, for I have the proofs. Further, it was
you who advised Sekukuni to kill us when we went down to his
country to shoot the other day, because you were afraid that we
should discover whence he got his guns." (This was a bow drawn
at a venture, but the arrow went home, for I saw his jaw drop.)
"Further, I believe you to be an illicit diamond buyer, and I
believe also that you have again been arranging with the Basutos
to make an end of us, though of these last two items at present I
lack positive proof. Now, Dr. Rodd, I ask you for the second
time whether you are a person to accuse others of crimes and
whether, should you do so, you will be considered a credible
witness when your own are brought to light?"
"If had been guilty of any of these things, which I am not, it is
obvious that my partner must have shared in all of them, except
the first. So if you inform against me, you inform against him,
and the father of Heda, whom your friend wishes to marry, will,
according to your showing, be proved a gun-runner, a thief and a
would-be murderer of his guests. I should advise you to leave
that business alone, Mr. Quatermain."
The reply was bold and clever, so much so that I regarded this
blackguard with a certain amount of admiration, as I answered--
"I shall take your advice if you take mine to leave another
business alone, that of this young lady and her father, but not
otherwise."
"Then spare your breath and do your worst; only careful, sharp as
you think yourself, that your meddling does not recoil on your
own head. Listen, Heda, either you make up your mind to marry me
at once and arrange that this young gentleman, who as a doctor I
assure you is now quite fit to travel without injury to his
health, leaves this house to-morrow with the spy Quatermain--you
might lend him the Cape cart to go in--or I start with the proofs
to lay a charge of murder against your father. I give you till
to-morrow morning to have a family council to think it over.
Good-night."
"Good-night," I answered as he passed me, "and please be careful
that none of us see your face again before to-morrow morning. As
you may happen to have heard, my native name means
Watcher-by-Night," and I looked at the revolver in my hand.
When he had vanished I remarked in as cheerful voice as I could
command, that I thought it was bedtime, and as nobody stirred,
added, "Don't be afraid, young lady. If you feel lonely, you
must tell that stout maid of yours to sleep in your room. Also,
as the night is so hot I shall take my nap on the stoep, there,
just opposite your window. No, don't let us talk any more now.
There will be plenty of time for that to-morrow."
She rose, looked at Anscombe, looked at me, looked at her father
very pitifully; then with a little exclamation of despair passed
into her room by the French window, where presently I heard her
call the native maid and tell her that she was to sleep with her.
Marnham watched her depart. Then he too went with his head bowed
and staggering a little in his walk. Next Anscombe rose and
limped off into his room, I following him.
"Well, young man," I said, "you have put us all in the soup now
and no mistake."
"Yes, Allan, I am afraid I have. But on the whole don't you
think it rather interesting soup--so many unexpected ingredients,
you see!"
"Interesting soup! Unexpected ingredients!" I repeated after
him, adding, "Why not call it hell's broth at once?"
Then he became serious, dreadfully serious.
"Look here," he said, "I love Heda, and whatever her family
history may be I mean to marry her and face the row at home."
"You could scarcely do less in all the circumstances, and as for
rows, that young lady would soon fit herself into any place that
you can give her. But the question is, how can you marry her?"
"Oh! something will happen," he replied optimistically.
"You are quite right there. Something will certainly happen, but
the point is--what? Something was very near happening when I
turned up on that stoep, so near that I think it was lucky for
you, or for Miss Heda, or both, that I have learned how to handle
a pistol. Now let me see your foot, and don't speak another word
to me about all this business to-night. I'd rather tackle it
when I am clear-headed in the morning."
"Well, I examined his instep and leg very carefully and found
that Rodd was right. Although it still hurt him to walk, the
wound was quite healed and all inflammation had gone from the
limb. Now it was only a question of time for the sinews to right
themselves. While I was thus engaged he held forth on the
virtues and charms of Heda, I making no comment.
"Lie down and get to sleep, if you can," I said when I had
finished. "The door is locked and I am going on to the stoep, so
you needn't be afraid of the windows. Good-night."
I went out and sat myself down in such a position that by the
light of the hanging lamp, which still burned, I could make sure
that no one could approach either Heda's or my room without my
seeing him. For the rest, all my life I have been accustomed to
night vigils, and the loaded revolver hung from my wrist by a
loop of hide. Moreover, never had I felt less sleepy. There I
sat hour after hour, thinking.
The substance of my thoughts does not matter, since the events
that followed make them superfluous to the story. I will merely
record, therefore, that towards dawn a great horror took hold of
me. I did not know of what I was afraid, but I was much afraid
of something. Nothing was passing in either Heda's or our room,
of that I made sure by personal examination. Therefore it would
seem that my terrors were unnecessary, and yet they grew and
grew. I felt sure that something was happening somewhere, a
dread occurrence which it was beyond my power to prevent, though
whether it were in this house or at the other end of Africa I did
not know.
The mental depression increased and culminated. Then of a sudden
it passed completely away, and as I mopped the sweat from off my
brow I noticed that dawn was breaking. It was a tender and
beautiful dawn, and in a dim way I took it as a good omen. Of
course it was nothing but the daily resurrection of the sun, and
yet it brought to me comfort and hope. The night was past with
all its fears; the light had come with all its joys. From that
moment I was certain that we should triumph over these
difficulties and that the end of them would be peace.
So sure was I that I ventured to take a nap, knowing that the
slightest movement or sound would wake me. I suppose I slept
until six o'clock, when I was aroused by a footfall. I sprang
up, and saw before me one of our native servants. He was
trembling and his face was ashen beneath the black. Moreover he
could not speak. All he did was to put his head on one side,
like a dead man, and keep on pointing downwards. Then with his
mouth open and starting eyes he beckoned to me to follow him.
I followed.
