# The Search Party/Chapter 15

pp. 168–183.

#### CHAPTER XV

MISS BLOW stood at the window of her bedroom in Jimmy O'Loughlin's hotel, and saw Mr. Dick and Mr. Sanders ride by on their bicycles. She did not for a moment suppose that they were the Members of Parliament who had arrived by the train. They looked like hilarious but shabby tourists. It is not with such faces or in such clothes that candidates for election woo their constituents in Merrie England. She afterwards saw the three ladies drive by, followed by the car which carried their luggage. She did not see Mr. Goddard. She supposed, very naturally, that he and the Members of Parliament were consulting together somewhere, perhaps in the waiting-room at the railway station, devising plans for the rescue of what still might remain of Dr. O'Grady's body. She waited patiently, sustained by the hope of heroic measures to be taken in the near future.
At half-past one Bridgy knocked at the door, and told her that her dinner was ready for her.
"Will Mr. Goddard be in for dinner?" asked Miss Blow.
Bridgy did not feel that it was her duty to disclose the fact that Mr. Goddard had driven away in the direction of Ballymoy. She answered cautiously.
"He might," she said.
This was unquestionably true. It was possible that Mr. Goddard would repent as he went on his way, and come back to dine with Miss Blow. It was not, in Bridgy's opinion, at all likely that he would; but she did not say this to Miss Blow.
"Will the other gentlemen be with him?"
"Well, I don't know, miss."
She did know, but she held charity to be a higher virtue than truth. If Miss Blow hoped for the company of other gentlemen, Bridgy would not subject her to a disappointment sooner than was absolutely necessary.
Miss Blow dined alone. After dinner she waited another half-hour. Then she rang, the bell for Bridgy.
"Has Mr. Goddard come back yet?"
"Well, I don't know, miss."
"Are the other gentlemen in the hotel?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Go and find out, then," said Miss Blow.
Bridgy went downstairs and summoned Jimmy O'Loughlin from behind the bar.
"The young lady above," she said, "is asking me this two hours if Mr. Goddard is come back."
"You know as well as I do," said Jimmy, "that he hasn't, and, what's more, won't."
"Sure, I do know that. Didn't I see him making off out of the yard by the back gate the way she wouldn't see him go?"
"Well, then, go and tell her so."
"Is it me? I dursn't."
"Do it at once," said Jimmy. "It was you she asked, and it's you that ought to answer her. Off with you now, and not another word out of your head."
Bridgy, who saw no reason why she should face the wrath of Miss Blow, retired to a small room which opened off the scullery, and spent an hour cleaning her own boots. Miss Blow waited, and after a while got tired of waiting. She rang the bell again. Bridgy heard it, and, for greater security, went into the yard and concealed herself in the cow byre. Miss Blow came downstairs and found Jimmy O'Loughlin. He had not thought of hiding, and was caught unawares.
"Is Mr. Goddard in the hotel?" she asked.
"He is not," said Jimmy. "It's himself was sorry to go; but there came a messenger over from Ballymoy, a police sergeant, to say he was wanting, and wanting badly. It might be cattle driving that's in it, or it might be a meeting about the land or maybe an eviction. They're a queer lot down in them parts. Anyway, he was wanting, and he went."
"It's a curious thing," said Miss Blow, "that he went off without saying a word to me."
"Well, now," said Jimmy, "if I amn't the fool this day; but I thought Bridgy would be sure to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"The last words he said to me as he was getting up into the trap was these; 'Jimmy,' says he, 'it goes to my heart to be leaving Miss Blow behind me, and her in trouble. She'll never forgive me.' 'Believe you me,' says I, striving to encourage him, for I could see he felt it, 'she will.' 'She will not,' says he. 'Don't I know she won't?' 'She will,' says I. 'There isn't a young lady ever I met with a better heart.' 'Will you tell her,' says he, 'that it was forced on me or I wouldn't do it, not if you was to give me the full of my hat of golden sovereigns?' 'I'll tell her,' says I; 'I'll break it to her quiet and easy the way she won't be feeling it.' And, glory be to God, I have."
"You might have done it a little sooner," said Miss Blow.
"I might, and that's a fact," said Jimmy apologetically.
"Where are the other gentlemen?" said Miss Blow.
"The other gentlemen! Is it them ones that come in on the train? Did you not see them going by on their bicycles? They're the most of the way to Pool-a-donagh by this time."
It occurred to Miss Blow that she had been deceived, tricked, abominably insulted by Mr. Goddard. She distinctly remembered the bicyclists. They had passed down the street almost immediately after the arrival of the train. It was quite impossible for Mr. Goddard to have had any serious conversation with them. She hesitated, on the verge of tears. Then the utter futility of weeping in the presence of Jimmy O'Loughlin struck her. She pulled herself together and, with prompt decision, settled her course of action.
"Get the car," she said, "at once. I shall drive over to Ballymoy and see Mr. Goddard."
"The car's not in it," said Jimmy.
Miss Blow stamped her foot.
"Get any car," she said. "I don't care whether it's your own or another."
"Divil the car there is in Clonmore this minute," said Jimmy. "The ladies that came in by the train has the both of them took, and they're away off with them to Pool-a-donagh, if so be that the horses can do the journey."
"Do you mean to say that there isn't a horse and car to be got in the place?"
"There is not. It's the truth I'm telling you; and if you don't believe me, go up and ask Sergeant Farrelly at the barrack."
"Then," said Miss Blow, "I'll walk."
"Is it to walk to Ballymoy? You'd never over it, and the weather as hot as it is. It's better than twelve miles."
"I'll do it," said Miss Blow.
She did. A little footsore, very tired, but still blazing with indignation, she arrived in Ballymoy at a quarter to six o'clock.
Just outside Ballymoy, close to the Clonmore road, is the ground belonging to the tennis club. There are three courts and a galvanized iron hut, known as the pavilion. On club days, when some lady gives tea to the players, there are usually twenty or thirty people on the ground. On other days only a few enthusiasts go to the club. It happened that when Miss Blow came in sight on the road there was no one at the club except Mr. Goddard and Captain Fielding, the Resident Magistrate. They were playing a vigorous game, having a final practice in preparation for the tournament which was to be held next day. Mr. Goddard was serving in the fifth game of the set when he caught sight of Miss Blow. He paused, stared at her, dropped the two balls which he held in his hand, and fled without a word into the pavilion.
Captain Fielding gaped with astonishment, looked up and down the road, saw nothing very alarming, and followed Mr. Goddard into the pavilion.
"What the devil——" he began.
Mr. Goddard took no notice of the remark. He was staring out of a small window which commanded a view of the road.
"What the——" said Captain Fielding again.
Mr. Goddard turned suddenly.
"Fielding," he said, "jump on your bicycle and ride like hell to my house. Don't lose a moment. Get a hold of my housekeeper, and tell her that if any lady calls she's to say I've gone away on leave and won't be back for six weeks. Don't stop to ask questions. I'll explain it all to you when you get back."
He pushed Captain Fielding, out of the pavilion.
"You'll be in time," he said, "if only you'll go. Thank goodness my house is at the far end of the town."
Captain Fielding did as he was told. He rode fast, because he was most anxious to hear Mr. Goddard's explanation as soon as possible. He delivered his message to the housekeeper, and then rode back.
"Did you pass a girl walking along the road?" said Mr. Goddard.
"I did; a pretty girl in a grey dress, a stranger."
"Well, she's mad—stark mad. She's been bothering me out of my life these two days. I'm sick and tired of talking to her. If she catches me now I'm done."
"If she's mad," said the R. M., "why don't you have her locked up? I'll sign the papers for you if you get a medical certificate."
"She's not mad in that sort of way," said Goddard, "although she is mad."
"I see," said the R. M.; "temper. It's not a breach of promise case, is it, Goddard?"
"Nothing of the sort. I never set eyes on her in my life till yesterday. In fact, she's engaged to quite another man."
"I see," said the R. M. doubtfully.
"The fact is," said Goddard, "she has a theory that there has been a murder over at Clonmore. There hasn't, of course; but she thinks there has—and—well, the fact is, I promised to investigate it. She cried, you know, and that sort of thing. The whole business is utterly absurd from start to finish."
"And what do you propose to do now?"
"I don't know. Perhaps she'll go away when she gets the message about my being on leave. I shall stay here till after dark, anyhow, and then sneak down to the house and find out what's happened."
"I think," said Captain Fielding, "that I'll stay with you. I'd rather like to see this business through. Besides, when she finds she can't get you she'll probably go up to my house for me."
Miss Blow received the message from Mr. Goddard's housekeeper with open incredulity.
"I shall wait here," she said, "until Mr. Goddard comes home."
The servant was in a difficult position. She recognized Miss Blow as the lady to whom she had given tea the day before, who had driven off, apparently on the most friendly terms, with Mr. Goddard. It was plainly impossible to slam the door as doors are slammed in the faces of drunken tramps. She was a woman of kindly disposition. She saw that Miss Blow was dusty, tired, in need of rest and refreshment. Her natural impulse was to be hospitable. At the same time she had no doubt as to what Mr. Goddard's wishes were with regard to this particular visitor. She was a woman of intelligence, and she realized that the message delivered by Captain Fielding was urgent and important. She hesitated, standing in the middle of the doorway. Miss Blow put an end to all uncertainty by walking past her into the house, opening the dining-room door, entering the room, and sitting down.
Mr. Goddard's housekeeper retired to the kitchen and meditated on the situation. It was plainly impossible to remove Miss Blow without the use of actual force. At seven o'clock pity triumphed over her sense of duty to her master. She made some tea and took it in to Miss Blow on a tray. At eight o'clock a police constable came to the door and asked to see Mr. Goddard. He refused to believe that the District Inspector had gone on leave. The housekeeper, despairing of anything except the actual truth, confessed that there was a young lady in the house, and gave it as her opinion that Mr. Goddard was afraid to meet her. The constable disappeared, grinning. The housekeeper was uneasily conscious that he was putting a wrong meaning into the fact of Miss Blow's presence in the house.
At nine o'clock Mr. Goddard, still in tennis flannels, and accompanied by Captain Fielding, climbed over the wall of his own back garden, and slipped through the yard into the kitchen.
"Mary," he said to the housekeeper, "is that young lady gone?"
"She is not; and, what's more, it's my opinion that she won't go."
"There," said Mr. Goddard to Captain Fielding, "what did I tell you? She's an amazingly persistent woman."
"Go and turn her out," said Captain Fielding. "Tell her it's highly improper for her to be sitting here in your house in the middle of the night."
Mr. Goddard sighed. The advice was well meant, but it was useless. He knew Miss Blow, and Captain Fielding did not.
"Mary," he said, "slip upstairs as quietly as you can, and get my pyjamas and tooth brush. I'll have to go to the barrack for the night. They'll give me some sort of a shake-down."
"And will the young lady be sleeping here?" asked Mary.
"I expect so," said Mr. Goddard. "If she does, she'll tell you so beforehand quite plainly. Make her as comfortable as you can."
Mary went upstairs on tiptoe. Unfortunately, owing to nervousness induced by excess of caution, she upset a hot-water can, which fell with a hideous clatter against Mr. Goddard's bath. She hastened from the bedroom, and was met on the stairs by Miss Blow.
"What have you got there?" said Miss Blow, eyeing the pyjamas suspiciously.
"It's clothes from the wash," said Mary. "Now that the master's away, I thought I might as well be doing that as nothing."
"You can tell him," said Miss Blow, "that I'm going to the hotel now, and that I'll be round to see him the first thing in the morning."
She left the house, slamming the door behind her. Mary carried the pyjamas and the tooth brush upstairs again. Then she went into the kitchen and broke the happy news to her master and Captain Fielding.
"Thank God!" said Mr. Goddard. "I'm safe for to-night, anyway."
"She'll be back with you in the morning," said Captain Fielding, grinning. "I don't see that you've much to congratulate yourself about."
"Something may happen before then," said Mr. Goddard.
It is very seldom that things happen just when they are wanted to. The prisoner on the verge of execution hopes, but as a rule hopes in vain, for an earthquake at early dawn. The debtor whose bill is due the next day prays for, but scarcely expects, a fire in the bank premises during the night, an effective fire destructive of iron safes. Mr. Goddard's feeling that something might happen before Miss Blow caught him again was hardly a hope. Nothing short of some wholly unprecedented event would be any use to him. But Mr. Goddard was exceptionally fortunate. Something did happen. He was roused at six o'clock in the morning by a violent knocking at his door. He looked out of his window and saw Constable Moriarty standing in the street with a bicycle.
"What on earth do you want at this hour?" said Mr. Goddard.
He had slept badly during the early part of the night, and was greatly annoyed at being roused from a doze at six o'clock.
"If it's Miss Blow you're after," he went on, "I haven't got her here. She's at the hotel. Go there and get her. Take her with you, if you want her. She's no use to me."
Constable Moriarty grinned. He did not want Miss Blow any more than his officer did. Then, in the very middle of his grin, he grew grave again.
"It's what Sergeant Farrelly is after sending me over to tell you, sir, that the two English gentlemen that went off to Pool-a-donagh on their bicycles is after getting lost."
"Lost! What do you mean by lost?"
"According to the word that came to the barrack at Clonmore, sir, the ladies arrived at Pool-a-donagh at four o'clock or thereabouts and didn't find the gentlemen. It was thought that maybe they'd taken a wrong turn, though it's hard to know how they could, seeing there isn't a wrong turn to take, and that they might have come back to Clonmore. So the sergeant at Pool-a-donagh sent a wire to Sergeant Farrelly; but he didn't know where they were, and no more did Jimmy O'Loughlin, for we asked him. We sent a few more wires to the barracks round about, but we got no tidings of them good nor bad. There was men out searching all night from Pool-a-donagh, and Constable Cole and the sergeant took a look round when they were on patrol. They do say the ladies was in a terrible state. There was a mounted man came into Clonmore between three and four this morning, and Sergeant Farrelly sent me over to you on a bicycle the way you'd be able to tell him what he'd better do."
"I never heard of such a thing in my life," said Mr. Goddard. "How can they be lost? The thing is impossible. Hang it all! they must be somewhere."
"So you'd say, sir. But there isn't a police station anywhere round but it's been wired to, and not one has seen the gentlemen, dead or alive."
"Don't talk about their being dead," said Mr. Goddard. "Good heavens, man! They're Members of Parliament. If they've gone and committed suicide there'll be a most frightful row, and everybody will say it's the fault of the police. They must be found at once."
Mr. Goddard was in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. He told Constable Moriarty to go into the yard and harness the horse while he shaved and dressed. He was inclined at first to be angry with the Members of Parliament. It is a stupid thing to get lost, and men have no right to be stupid. He did not want to spend the day searching bohireens and bog-holes. He wanted to play in the Ballymoy tennis tournament. He had engaged himself as partner to Mrs. Fielding, the Resident Magistrate's wife, and it vexed him to have to disappoint the lady. By degrees the matter began to present itself to him in a brighter light. He was now obliged, absolutely forced, to leave Ballymoy, and by leaving early he would escape Miss Blow, escape her for a time at all events. He reflected that if she sought him out with her usual relentlessness he would, in any case, have been unable to play in the tournament. A man cannot with any decency appear on a tennis court while a beautiful and angry girl hurls reproaches at him from the side lines. Even if he succeeded in evading her, his nerve would be shattered by the consciousness that she might appear beside him at any moment. It seemed to him that the loss of the Members of Parliament was, after all, a blessing in disguise; that, in fact, his wish had been fulfilled beyond his hope—something had happened.
He sat down and scribbled a note of apology for his absence.
"Dear Fielding," he wrote, "will you ask your wife be so kind as to excuse me. I am exceedingly sorry to disappoint her, and I assure you I would not do it if I could possibly help it. Two Members of Parliament have disappeared during the night, and I have to go out and look for them. Perhaps the rector would play with Mrs. Fielding if you asked him. He's no earthly good, but he's on the handicapping committee, and would let himself in soft. In any case she would get a game of some sort. If you happen to come across that good-looking girl in the grey dress, you might tell her that I promised to play to-day with Mrs. Fielding, and that you expect me up at the club between twelve o'clock and four. That will keep her in Ballymoy for most of the day, anyhow. The Lord knows I don't want her on my track. I shall have worry enough without that."
He stuffed some biscuits into his pocket and went out into the yard. Constable Moriarty promised to deliver the note to Captain Fielding. Mr. Goddard got into his trap and drove off. He had to pass the hotel on his way, and was half afraid that Miss Blow might sally out and seize the horse's head. She did not. It was not yet seven o'clock, and the blinds of all the upstairs rooms were drawn down. Miss Blow was, apparently, sleeping off the fatigue of the day before.
Mr. Goddard reached Clonmore at half-past eight. He found Sergeant Farrelly and Constable Cole at breakfast. They had been up all night, and were looking fagged, nervous, and harassed.
"There's two more wires, sir, that's come in since eight this morning. The one of them says that there's no further news of the missing gentlemen in Pool-a-donagh, and the other says that the ladies started back to Clonmore at seven this morning, and is in hopes that you'll be here to meet them when they arrive.
"If I'm not," said Mr. Goddard—"and it's quite possible that I won't—if I'm not, you'll have to see them, sergeant. They're very nice ladies," he added, noticing a gloom on Sergeant Farrelly's face, "not the least like Miss Blow."
"It's a queer thing," said Sergeant Farrelly, "that a man could get lost between this and Pool-a-donagh. It's a straight road, and they got started right on it. Jimmy O'Loughlin was telling me last night that he seen them going through the town, and them heading straight on the same as if they knew the place all their lives. Without they took a boat and went out to sea in it—and I don't know where they'd get a boat along that road—it's a queer thing."
"It is a queer thing," said Mr. Goddard. "But what's the use of spending the morning saying so? Show me all the telegrams that came last night."
He worked his way through a sheaf of pink forms. The messages were, for the most part, very monotonous. In language which hardly varied and with a strict attention to the number of words which can be sent for sixpence, the sergeants of all the police barracks within a wide circle disclaimed any knowledge of the missing gentlemen. No one had seen them. The most careful inquiries brought no information. Here and there, among these cold, official statements, Mr. Goddard came upon a message which breathed anxiety, heartbreak, and despair, a despatch from a wife or an aunt. These were verbose, reckless of expense, and always ended by urging the necessity of immediate action on the part of the police.
"I can't do anything," said Mr. Goddard; "at all events, I won't do anything till I've had some breakfast. It's after nine now. I'll go down to the hotel and see what I can get out of Jimmy O'Loughlin."
He found, when he reached the hotel, that the table in the commercial room was laid for breakfast. A pleasant scent of frying bacon reached him from the kitchen. He became aware that he was extremely hungry.
"Jimmy!" he called. "Jimmy O'Loughlin!"
"Is that yourself, Mr. Goddard?" said Jimmy, speaking from the top of the stairs. "They're just getting the breakfast ready for the doctor's young lady. I'll tell them to fry a couple more eggs for you. She'll glad of your company. It's lonely for the creature taking her meals by herself, and her in trouble about the loss of the doctor and all."
Jimmy O'Loughlin in his shirt-sleeves and without collar leaned over the banisters as he spoke. The grin on his face was malicious.
"Is Miss Blow here?" said Mr. Goddard. "I don't believe she is. How could she?"
"She is not here," said Jimmy, "but I'm just after getting a wire from her to say that she'll be in for her breakfast at half-past nine. It must be that now, if it isn't past it. Bridgy! Are you there, Bridgy? I say, will you fry a couple of eggs and some rashers for Mr, Goddard? He'll be taking his breakfast along with the doctor's young lady as soon as she comes."
"Look here," said Mr. Goddard, "there's no use your trying to pull my leg in this way. Miss Blow can't be here. She was sound asleep when I left Ballymoy at seven, and she couldn't possibly do the drive the time."
"Not if she drove," said Jimmy; "but she'd do it a bicycle."
"How do you know she has a bicycle?"
"I don't know. How would I? All I say is that being the sort of a young lady she is, it's likely she'd get a bicycle, or for the matter of that a motor car, if so be she wanted one. Anyway, she'll be here at half-past nine, for that's what she said."
"Then," said Mr. Goddard, "I'll not stay for breakfast. I'm going up to the Castle. I have business with Lord Manton. And look here, Jimmy, when Miss Blow arrives, if she does arrive, there'll be no need for you to say anything about my being here. It would only upset her."
"I will not. Why would I? Hasn't she trouble enough without that? But tell me now, Mr. Goddard, is it true what I hear them saying about them gentlemen that was through the town yesterday on their bicycles."
"Is what true?"
That they're off."
"They're lost," said Mr. Goddard, "if that's what you mean."
Jimmy O'Loughlin winked. "The same as the poor doctor," he said, "and Patsy Devlin."
"Not in the least the same. We know what happened to them well enough. But these fellows are quite different. But I can't stop here talking to you all morning. I've something else to do. Don't say anything to anybody about my being up at the Castle."
"I will not. If I open my mouth about you at all, I'll say you're searching high and low for the men that's gone."